


Accidental Rescues (and Fateful Decisions)

by antigrav_vector



Series: (R)BB fics - all pairings [21]
Category: Captain America (MCU), Iron Man Noir, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Fluff, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon-Typical Violence, Identity Issues, M/M, Memory Issues, Mission Fic, Multi, Smut, Sponge Baths, Stephen Strange cameo, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony POV, bathing together, canon mashup, nongraphic discussion of blood and gore, nonsexual intimacy, soulmate identifying marks, washing each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: In the course of one of his adventures for Marvels Magazine, Tony stumbles across someone that will change his life. While he's doing his best to hunt down an artifact that rumour had it had ended up in HYDRA's hands somehow, he finds a captive man who has a metal arm and no idea who he is.Of course, it only gets more complicated from there.





	1. [May 23, 1949]

**Author's Note:**

> Posted with thanks to my faithful beta reader [dapperanachronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism), and my artist [StrivingArtist](http://striving-artist.tumblr.com/post/182830334792/art-for-antigravvectors-winterironshield-bang) who did some amazing work, jfc. (I am legit still flailing over it, ngl.)
> 
> Chapters will be posting daily until the fic is complete.

Tony eyed his map a bit dubiously, trying to take advantage of his enhanced sentinel senses to work out where to go from here. It looked like a dead end. "Well," he said, looking back up at the sheer cliff face in front of them, "I guess this is it."

Jarvis rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the map. "Are you sure you're reading that right?"

Tony shrugged. "I've checked it three times, but, by all means, have one more look."

Pepper sighed. "So what now?" She asked. "If this really is the spot the map leads to, there must be a reason for it."

"Or it might be a trap," Jarvis disagreed.

Eyeing the cliff face once more, Tony nodded. "Both are valid possibilities. The sources I read don't mention anything about a cliff."

The discussion might have continued, had a gunshot not rung out high up above them, the bullet impacting precisely between Tony's feet and making him leap backwards.

"Don't look now," Pepper said wryly as she put her hands up in surrender, "but I think it might be a trap."

Tony searched for the shooter hoping that it was a lone gunman that was defending his hunting perch or something of that nature.

That turned out to be a miscalculation.

It didn't take long for a squad of men to surround them. Within minutes they'd been surrounded and their captors began herding them northeast along the cliff face without a word. All of them wore black from head to toe, up to and including masks to hide their faces, and carried plenty of weaponry.

Tony knew Jarvis would have activated their emergency radio beacon, alerting Rhodes that they were in trouble, but his ability to help them out would be determined by what happened next. If Tony's suspicions were correct, and there was some kind of hidden compound built into the cliff face, the radio signal would get cut off by the rock and they'd be on their own regardless.

To his surprise, they weren't searched before they were dumped in a small cell with a heavy iron door and no light fixtures.

And then their captors simply left, shutting and locking the door behind them.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Tony muttered to himself when he was fairly sure no one was around to hear him except his two teammates.

Pepper groaned quietly. "Honestly, Stark," she replied, "how do you get yourself into these messes?"

With a huff, Tony retorted, "We weren't shot, we still have all our supplies, no one has been injured, and I'm fairly sure that Jarvis managed to get a signal off to Jim."

"I did," Jarvis confirmed. "But we'll have to find a way out of here before we can take advantage of Rhodes' assistance."

"I'm inclined to wait this out a little. It'll take Jim a few hours to get all the way out here, and I'd like to know what in blue blazes we've stumbled across," Tony said as he ran a hand through his hair. "There's a chance this was a simple misunderstanding, or a case where some private property wasn't clearly marked that we can resolve peaceably."

"With a bribe, you mean," Pepper shot back.

"If it gets us out of here without a fight, I have no problem with it," Jarvis chimed in.

In the end, they'd had to wait almost an hour for anyone to bother coming to speak to them, and when someone finally did, he didn't speak.

The heavy iron door had creaked open, letting in a sliver of dim light, and then a stocky man in black stepped into the small room, standing in the doorway in silence. He was perfectly still.

Tony took the opportunity to size him up. The man standing in front of him wore gear similar to that of the squad that had escorted them into the cell, but everything was visibly more rugged. Instead of a simple jacket, this guy wore what looked like armored Kevlar body armour. His face mask was more than a simple balaclava, resembling a true mask. Or perhaps a muzzle, Tony thought with a carefully hidden shudder. A single fingerless glove covered his right hand, his pants and boots were similarly heavy duty, and he carried all manner of weapons, including a Dragunov that had been slung over his shoulder by its strap to hang diagonally across his back. The rifle itself still smelled faintly of gunpowder, grease, and hot metal, which told Tony it hadn't yet been cleaned, and that this was the shooter he'd sought earlier.

The fact that this guy had managed to elude his senses implied that he might be another sentinel, and potentially a strong one. Tony made a note not to make any sudden moves. If his guesses were on the mark — and he was willing to bet that they were — the guy standing before them would be faster and stronger than he looked. And he looked like he could punch straight through the door of this cell.

And, perhaps most interestingly of all, the guy was hesitating over something. Or maybe that should be 'hesitating to do something', Tony amended the thought, considering their circumstances.

After a few seconds of tense silence, Tony decided to jump in with both feet and spoke up. "Hello," he greeted the guy politely, not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot. "I think there might have been a misunderstanding. Could you please tell us who you are and why we're being held in here?"

All he got in response was more stony silence.

Tony cocked his head as he considered the guy. "Do you speak English?"

That caused the man's hands to clench, apparently unconsciously, with an audible hiss-click of metal on metal. And Tony had to force himself not to stare. This man had a metallic left hand. Or a very tightly fitted plate mail glove. It was a somewhat archaic weapon but an extremely effective one in close quarters.

"I'll take that as a no," Tony went on after a beat and the guy relaxed just slightly, making Tony wonder if the sound of his voice was soothing the stranger somehow. "What languages do you speak? Sprechen sie Deutsch? Parlez vous français? а ты говоришь по русски?"

"I--" the guy broke in, "I--"

Tony waited, but nothing more was forthcoming.

Pepper shifted her weight restlessly behind him, and the stranger's attention immediately shifted to her, his body language going tense again.

Jarvis hastily took a step to his left to put himself between this man and their chronicler. She was a decent shot and fierce fighter, but Tony knew all three of them were outclassed by the man standing before them, and he could tell Jarvis did too, for all that he was a simple baseline human.

"So," Tony spoke up again, trying to break the tension, "since we don't seem to have actually done anything wrong, can we go?"

"нет." The stranger replied in Russian, apparently deciding English wasn't his thing after all. "мое задание - устранить тебя." (No. My task is to eliminate you.)

Tony bit back a wince and instead offered his right hand. "Это не должно прийти к этому." (It doesn't have to come to that.) "как тебя зовут?" (What is your name?)

The stranger stared down at his hand as though the gesture was utterly foreign and confusing. Then back up at Tony, apparently searching his face for any hint of deception or who knew what. It took several long seconds that seemed to stretch before the guy replied in kind, slowly offering his gloved right hand.

Tony carefully took it and shook it. Then repeated his query, "как тебя зовут?"

"я не знаю." ( "I don't know." ) came the answer.

Pepper drew in a sharp breath, getting the guy's attention again, but this time he didn't tense as much. Tony let the hand in his drop, feeling that their visitor was uncomfortable, and wanting to avoid that.

"как насчет этого? идите с нами, если хотите, и мы поможем вам разобраться," Tony offered, taking a risk. ( "How about this? Come with us if you like, and we will help you figure it out.")

The silence held for a good minute, after that, and Tony had to fight not to let it make him tense up.

"они не просто позволят мне уйти," he said eventually, not truly answering the question. ( "They won't just let me go.")

But the implication was clear. Tony stuck to his metaphorical guns. "это не имеет значения. Вы хотите пойти с нами?" ( "That doesn't matter. Do you want to come with us?")

This time he got a short nod. "Подписывайтесь на меня," their visitor and newly-minted ally demanded. ( "Follow me.")

Tony grinned widely, and took some enjoyment from the look of surprise that his reaction garnered him. "You heard the man," he quipped as the guy blocking the doorway turned decisively on his heel and strode off down the rough hewn rock tunnel beyond.

He hurried after the man, deciding they'd have to find him a name, and fast, once they were out of this place, and heard Pepper and Jarvis hurry after them.

Without breaking stride, the stranger pulled a pistol out of a holster at his hip and shot three men as they approached the first junction in their path. He didn't say a word, and simply stepped over the bleeding bodies on the ground, as though they were beneath his notice now that they no longer stood between him and his goal.

Tony bit back the words that tried to boil up and escape. They could save the arguments for after they were back out of what was now officially hostile territory.

The next group of men fell victim to a well-placed grenade.

Jarvis hissed in an approximation of sympathy, but neither he nor Pepper said a word.

Whoever this guy was, Tony was sure that he was a sentinel, after seeing that little display of ferocity, for all that the emotions driving this man seemed oddly muted. Whoever he was, he looked, sounded, and acted totally calm and unaffected as he tore viciously through the men standing between him and the door.

There was very obviously something at work here beyond the obvious but damned if Tony knew what it was. Somehow this guy had no idea who he was, but he was a force of nature when he chose to fight.

And he was just as effective without ranged weapons or explosives.

Tony couldn't help his wince as a third group of men — this time only four of them — fell victim to the guy's metal-clad fist. He was no stranger to death. Hell, he courted it every day, between his expeditions and the risk posed by his repulsor pump. But what he was witnessing here was just… well, horrifying.

At least, he told himself, they were nearly home free.

That, naturally, was the moment that reinforcements arrived to bolster their captors' numbers. Suddenly, the four of them were facing down what looked to be about twenty-five men. Tony reached for his own pistol and started taking potshots. He got through half his clip, taking enough care to place his shots carefully as time seemed to slow down, while their unnamed ally holstered his pistol, its clip empty, produced a semiautomatic from somewhere on his person, and emptied that clip systematically into the enemies that were still standing.

It felt oddly zen, as though he and this stranger were moving in easy synchronization, and that made no sense.

They finished shooting at about the same time, and Tony shoved aside the uneasy feeling of being off balance.

Jarvis whistled lowly, apparently seeing much the same thing in the scene that Tony had. "You sure you've never met this guy, Stark?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. But let's get out of here before we discuss it," he answered and heard Pepper snort.

"Yes, let's," she agreed, sounding like she wanted nothing more. "With any luck, the airship will be nearby."

That made their guide pause, hesitating for a split second. "Airship?" He asked warily, as though he didn't know the word.

"It's mine," Tony told him, not bothering to switch back to Russian, as it was clear the stranger understood them. "If you want to come with us, that's gonna be your ticket out of here."

After another brief hesitation, he nodded and kept moving.

Tony followed, stocking as close as he dared, and keeping an eye on Pepper and Jarvis as he did. "Who the hell did we get captured by anyway," he muttered to himself. "This has to be one of the weirdest escapes I've ever been part of."

"HYDRA," their stranger replied, voice just as quiet.

Typical. Fucking typical. It truly did fit that HYDRA would be occupying a base hidden in a cliff in the middle of nowhere.

It also had a number of consequences for them. Firstly, that meant that either the map he'd tracked down was a plant or that HYDRA had beaten him to the punch and found the artifact they'd been chasing after. Possibly both. Secondly, it meant that this man they were rescuing was either HYDRA himself or another captive, and they had no way of knowing which was the case. They'd have to be damned careful around him. And lastly, it meant HYDRA would be after them with who knew what levels of rabid fervor, after this.

"Shit," he swore vehemently.

Tony could feel Pepper and Jarvis exchanging looks behind him as the last door that stood between them and open air finally appeared before them.

Their guide didn't break his stride this time either, simply walking up to the door and kicking it off its hinges as though it weighed nothing, and then veering off to the right as soon as he was past it. "мы должны подняться," he said, "или нас будут обстреливать, когда мы войдем в ваш дирижабль." ( "We must climb, or we will be shot at as we enter your airship." )

Tony accepted that without argument. It was tactically a very sensible choice. "He's not wrong," he commented and started along the barely visible path upwards. "Let's go."

Pepper and Jarvis followed him after a long tense second, clearly uneasy about letting their guide play rear guard, but gave in.

Whoever he was, the guy was their best defense against any remaining HYDRA goon squads, if there were indeed any left after their escape. If the guy thought there were, though, Tony was inclined to believe him.

Not only was the man a sentinel, but he knew the layout and defenses of the hidden base far better than the three of them did, and Tony was damned sure that knowledge also extended to the number of squads present.

They climbed in silence for a while, and Tony found that he really disliked knowing that their backs were exposed. There was little to no cover along the first half of the climb, seeing as the way up wound between rocks and along sheer cliff face, sometimes consisting of ledges barely wide enough for him to place his foot on.

But, luckily for the state of his nerves, they reached a small outcropping with a few small scrub bushes some five minutes later.

Tony took the opportunity to catch his breath and regroup. "Jarvis?" He asked for his old friend's attention, "you in radio contact with Rhodes?"

"Not right now," Jarvis answered, voice desert dry as Pepper and the unnamed sentinel joined them. "I was more focused on climbing."

"Call him," Pepper suggested. "We might need to make a running leap for the ladder, the way today has been going."

"Meantime," Tony turned to their soon-to-be guest, "we need a name for you. You might not know who you are, but I'm sure they had a name they called you. What was it?"

Tony watched the slight turmoil in the guy's eyes appear and vanish again. It had looked like he wanted to wince or shrug but didn't dare, for whatever reason.

"меня зовут солдат," the sentinel answered eventually, as Jarvis spoke quietly to Rhodes in the background, quickly explaining the situation and giving their location.

Soldier? That was kind of fitting, Tony had to admit, but it was not a name.

"You are not a proper noun," he told the guy, "you are a person. And people are allowed names that do more than describe their function."

That statement got Tony an almost helpless look and more silence. "Think it over," he added, "and choose one for yourself. I'll make a few suggestions, if you can't think of one that you like."

The helpless look intensified, and Tony knew he needed to change the subject. "Anyway, first things first, Soldier. We need to climb aboard my airship. And then we ought to get back to safer territory."

That got Tony a grateful look that implied he'd just done the equivalent of throwing a drowning man a life preserver. "да. и я должен связать свои раны," he said, making Tony do a double take and look him over more closely. ( "Yes. And I must bind my wounds." )

The Soldier's gear was liberally splattered with blood and he'd seen that the moment they'd gotten back out into the waning sunlight, but Tony had assumed none of it belonged to him. The way he'd moved, fluidly and gracefully, hadn't screamed injury. Hell, he'd seemed pretty much indestructible during their trek back out of the base and up the cliff face. But now the smell of that blood was hitting Tony between the eyes like a hammer. "You're hurt?" He asked sharply.

"ничего особенного. ссадина," the Soldier told him, sounding like he was caught between the urge to reassure and a fear that had no place in a discussion like this. ( "Nothing serious. A graze.")

Tony fought to maintain his equilibrium. "Once we're aboard the airship, you're letting Jarvis patch you up, then. Until then, let us know if it becomes a problem. I trust you know your own limits."

Jarvis nodded and added his support. "After you got us out of there, the least I can do is fix you up," he said.

Pepper cleared her throat. "Touching as this is, we should get moving. Rhodes said he'd be at the top of the cliff in about fifteen."

"Right," Tony accepted the slight rebuke. "Let's go, then."

To his relief, the rest of their escape was uneventful. They made it to the top of the cliff just in time to see the airship appear above the treetops and they were aboard less than two minutes later.

As soon as they'd shrugged off their packs, Jarvis caught the Soldier's eyes and got a nod. Tony watched them disappear into the infirmary and couldn't help the way the relief burned through him.

He'd go check on them in a few minutes, he told himself, but his feet wouldn't listen. Tony knew he ought to be checking in with Rhodes, but despite that he found himself following his old friend and new ally into the infirmary and telling himself he was doing it to keep the Soldier calm.

It was strange, really, he reflected. He had no idea how or why, but he found himself already oddly attached to the Soldier, for all that he'd literally known the guy for all of an hour. Two at most.

And yet…

It was strange, but he felt a connection to the Soldier that left him off balance when he was out of the room.

Tony stopped short of the infirmary door and stared at it blankly for a beat.

No. It just wasn't possible. He hadn't just damned well stumbled across a sentinel that had the potential to form a platonic bond with him. There was just no way.

And even if he was right about that, Tony knew, he couldn't act on it in good conscience. The Soldier had no idea who he was, and had literally just turned his back on the only world he knew to follow Tony home.

"I know you're out there," the Soldier called out to him. "Either come in or find something better to do than stare at the door."

As Tony wondered at the sudden switch to English -- presumably so that their medic could speak to him more easily -- he heard Jarvis chuckle.

Shaking his head, Tony pushed the door open, giving in to his need to see that the Soldier was alright. "Didn't want to make you nervous," he quipped, trying his best to cover his awkwardness with a joke, then had to swallow hard when the scene registered on him fully.

The first thing that he noticed was that the Soldier had far more than a metal gauntlet. The gleaming metal plates extended all the way up to his shoulder, and the scarring surrounding the edges of the thing implied that he'd lost his arm at some point only to have it replaced with whatever that thing was. The plates were smudged with blood, grime and dirt up to his wrist, but that didn't, oddly enough, detract from the elegance of the prosthetic. Or the man wearing it. Who was, Tony forced himself not to stare as best he could, shirtless, gloveless, and bandaged in a couple of places. It had apparently been two grazes, and not just one, by the looks of things, and both had already been patched up, if the bandages around the Soldier's upper right arm and low on his left side were any indication.

There was also a set of Bondmarks decorating his right arm and trailing down over the back of his hand, looking like a set of fireworks. Somehow, that figured. It took effort not to let his expression twist. Better to find out about that now, before he'd made a fool of himself. It was just typical of his luck that the first person he'd been interested in, in the years since Gialetta had hurt him, would already have found his Bondmate. And possibly lost them, as well, if Tony's suspicions were on the mark.

Clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from the bared skin bearing the Bondmark that was simultaneously making him remember those painful memories and lust after the man bearing it, Tony found himself caught and pinned in place by the Soldier's amused expression. Shrugging off his reaction again -- goddamn, this was getting ridiculous; he was no blushing schoolgirl -- Tony smirked at him in an attempt to find his footing again. "You're looking a lot better," he commented. "Want us to find you some street clothes to borrow?"

Jarvis laughed at him outright. "Stark, there's no way we can find anything that'll fit aboard the airship. That will have to wait until we're back in Prague."

The Soldier shrugged. "Perhaps so," he answered, his voice even but tinged with amusement of his own, "but I can't just walk around like this. It would be too distracting."

Damn him, he was probably right about that. "At least clean the blood off that gear of yours before you put it back on," he replied, trying not to let the words get to him.

It might sound like flirting, but there was no way he could allow that. Not until the Soldier had a better idea of who he was. Or perhaps a new idea, as the case might be. And who his Bondmate was. If they could track down the other half of the bond, that would be the best resolution to this mess, anyway. It would give the Soldier somewhere to call home. Or, more accurately, someone. And a leg up on figuring out who he was and wanted to be.

Tony turned back in to the conversation in time to catch the Soldier's nod, aimed at Jarvis.

"I can do that," he agreed easily and stood, sauntering over toward Tony, "but I don't think we were ever formally introduced."

The infuriatingly attractive man tilted his head and a faint hint of a smirk played at the corners of his mouth, further tempting Tony to let himself take the offered hand now that both of them could offer up bared skin, just to see if his hunch was correct, despite the complications of the situation.

Jarvis rolled his eyes audibly. "Just shake the man's hand," he demanded, ignoring the undercurrents in the room in that unique no-nonsense way he had.

Tony gave in. "Call me Tony," he said, "Mr. Stark is for strangers."

The Soldier's palm was warm and his grip was firm. It was everything he would have expected and more. Tony felt like something reached down into him and set him to rights like he had been a disorganised bookshelf. Suddenly everything made more sense, somehow, for all that nothing had really changed. He was still the same, hadn't somehow magically been made more or less. Just... optimised.

And, judging by the way the Soldier was staring at him in wonder, he'd felt it too.

Feeling like he should be awkward but just couldn't manage it, Tony gave the Soldier a crooked smile. "Well, that was unexpected," he said drily, but didn't take his hand back.

"What?" Jarvis looked back and forth between them. "You didn't."

"Pretty sure we did," Tony answered. "Never happened to me before, but I suspect that's what a platonic bond feels like."

Jarvis pinched the bridge of his nose and swore. "Well, now you've gone and done it," he grumbled. "HYDRA was going to fight to get him back anyway, and now it'll be even worse to deal with."

The Soldier shrugged. "I wasn't exactly planning to go back, Mr. Jarvis," he put in, sounding more American than he had before.

He sounded rather more reasonable than Tony felt ought to be allowed given the circumstances. Given that he still hadn't let go of Tony's hand, in fact, he ought to sound a lot less calm. Tony himself felt like his blood had been replaced with seltzer water. Every inch of him tingled, and he felt oddly aware of every inch of the Soldier as well. It was odd. A lot like knowing where his hand was in relation to his own face or body, he knew where the Soldier was and what he felt. Pulling himself together a bit, he added, "I wasn't planning on letting them take you back, Soldier. No one should be held against their will. And did you pick a name?"

Jarvis huffed at him. "He asked me to pick one for him."

"Well? What is his new name, then?" Tony demanded impatiently.

The Soldier shrugged. "None of them. They all felt wrong."

Tony scrubbed at his face with his free hand. "I should have guessed. Well, pal, your attempts to keep your air of mystery aren't as funny as you think."

The Soldier laughed at him silently. It didn't show in his expression, but his eyes sparkled with his amusement. Then, taking a deep breath, he sobered again. "I-- I know it sounds strange, but I don't want to choose wrong? And I feel like my own is hidden on a shelf just out of reach."

That... okay, that sounded all kinds of frustrating. "Alright, I'll let it go for now. But you'd better tell me the moment you pick one, because just calling you Soldier is gonna get old fast."

"Tony," Jarvis interjected, pulling his focus back away from their guest-likely-to-become-permanent-team-member, "Jim filed a flight plan to Prague, but I find myself wondering if stopping there is a good idea, considering that was where you got your hands on that map."

Tony nodded, seeing the logic. "There's a good chance we'd just be walking right back into the same trap. And that's the last thing we need, right now."

The Soldier made a small sound at the back of his throat, as though he wanted to speak but didn't quite dare, and Tony could hear the speed of his breathing pick up. It wasn't clear why, either, but Tony didn't want the guy freaking out at the thought of getting caught again, or whatever. "What's wrong, Soldier?"

"Who-- Who is Jim?" He asked, voice a trifle hoarse.

Jarvis and Tony exchanged a look that telegraphed confusion from both sides.

"Jim is our pilot," Jarvis answered. "James Rhodes. We've mentioned him a few times, but you haven't met him yet."

"James." The Soldier repeated thoughtfully, as though he was tasting the name.

Tony watched, more than a little bit at a loss as to what on earth was happening, as a mixture of relief and resolve took over the Soldier's features. "Yes, that feels better than any of the names you offered me, Mr. Jarvis."

Jarvis raised an eyebrow at him. "You expect me to deal with having two Jameses aboard?"

"You call the other one Jim or Rhodes, anyway," the Soldier pointed out. "So, yes, I do."

"Fine," Jarvis conceded the point with a nod. "James, then."

Oddly, it wasn't quite the relief Tony had expected it to be, to have a name for the Soldier. "Well, come on, James. I'll show you where you can bunk and clean your gear," he invited. "Jarvis, you and Rhodes have your choice of destinations, as far as I'm concerned, but I'd suggest London or Paris if we have enough fuel to get there from the wilds of Croatia -- or wherever we are, meantime."

Jarvis gave him a long measuring look. "Don't you go running off to hide in your quarters, after you show James here to one of the guest bedrooms," he said sternly. "You've still got work to do before we can call the day over."

"Like what?" Tony challenged him. "Flying the airship? That's Rhodes' job. Writing up the day's events? I can do that more easily in my quarters than outside of them and can compare notes with Pepper later. I don't need patching up, and you don't have to debrief me on anything considering you were right there with me the whole time, this go around."

"Like filing our flight plan," Jarvis suggested, apparently not inclined to let him hole up in his room until he'd found his emotional footing again.

"Also part of Rhodes' job," Tony pointed out.

James made an exasperated sound. "I'll make sure he shows up to eat, Mr. Jarvis. Let it go. We both need to adjust to this," he broke up the argument effortlessly, and gestured to their still joined hands.

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and made to pull away, but James was having none of that, and simply tightened his grip until Tony was forced to give up the attempt.

Jarvis muttered some creative curses under his breath about idiots but let them go. Tony bit back his sigh of relief, but knew James could tell he felt it.

"So where is this guest bedroom I was promised," James prompted him, leaning down to pick up his shirt and tac jacket with his free hand.

"It's not far," Tony replied a bit absently, his attention briefly caught by the gleam of the metal arm once more, before he tugged James out of the infirmary and into the corridor. "Come on."

James went easily, and Tony could feel some of the lingering tension in James' shoulders seep back out as they left the room behind them.

This platonic bond thing would take a bit of getting used to.

The living quarters of the airship were essentially composed of one narrow corridor that had a series of doors on either side, and occupied the upper floor of the cabin along with the helm and galley. The lower floor contained the engine room, storage spaces, infirmary, armoury, and workshop. Tony pointed out the features relevant to their guest as they passed through the lower corridor and up the two short flights of stairs to reach the upper corridor.

As promised, Tony delivered him into one of the two guest bedrooms -- both of which shared a bathroom and tiny shower between them -- and reluctantly reclaimed his hand. He felt the lack of physical contact immediately, and hated that he suddenly felt alone again. "Make yourself at home," he told James, carefully burying the feeling as best he could even as he saw James' expression twist. "And let me know if there's anything you need."

Then he turned and ducked back out the bedroom door before James had a chance to reply. He didn't want to know what it would have been. A quiet sigh followed him down the corridor, a bit like a phantom, and faded away just before Tony managed to close his own door and let himself lean against it, needing the support as the day caught up to him.

It had been a long day, and James had been right. It wasn't over yet.

Nothing about this had really been resolved, and they would need to address that lack before long.

But first, they needed to get James some proper street clothes, and then they needed to get back Stateside, so Tony could start looking into just what they'd stumbled across. Maybe Director Fury would be able to point them in the right direction. He was SHIELD, and had dealt with HYDRA before.


	2. [July 10, 1949]

Tony scowled as he settled himself in one of the two uncomfortable seats in Fury's office. James hadn't been allowed to join him for the meeting -- which had taken far longer to arrange than Tony had been strictly happy about -- seeing as he had no clearances. Tony had been forced to settle for having Pepper snap a photograph for him to carry with him to show Fury. The only good thing about that was that Tony could openly carry it around without anyone asking him inconvenient questions about why he had a man's photo in his jacket pocket.

As he silently stared down the grizzled old General, taking in Fury's appearance and emotional state, Tony let himself think back over the past month and a half. After the first week James had been with them, Tony'd given in and accepted that he was fonder of the man than even a platonic bond could explain. Three weeks later, Jarvis had confronted him about it without James' presence. Last week, James himself had. They hadn't reached any kind of firm conclusions about what to do, despite the length of their talk, but there was some hope that they might work something out. Tony was still reluctant to act on the attraction he felt, even knowing it was requited, while James was trying to figure out who he was.

Fury made no move to speak either. He stayed still and tried to wait Tony out. His body language was calm, though more and more hints of annoyance crept in as they engaged in their silent battle of wills. Fury was a sentinel, though not an extremely strong one. Tony knew he could get a lot more detail out of his observations than Fury could. But, on the other hand, Fury knew what Tony could do and sense, as well as how to keep from giving away the farm. Right then, Fury wasn't showing any of the tension around his eyes that Tony had learned was one of his biggest tells, and his posture was reasonably loose and relaxed, secure.

"Well?" Fury demanded after a few long seconds, producing a cigar out of his desk drawer and lighting it as he leaned back in his chair. "Ya demanded this meeting an' ya said it was urgent, so what'd ya want?"

Tony waited until Fury had taken a couple of puffs before he spoke. "You clearly had much more urgent things to do, if you made me wait six weeks to get to see you," he sniped back. "But here's the story. My team and I had a run-in with HYDRA on my last expedition. I was hoping you could shed some light on the matter."

That made Fury straighten in his seat and scowl at him. "Well, why the Sam Hill didn't ya say so earlier?" He demanded with an irritated growl. "Ya know damned well that yer supposed to report any HYDRA movements immediately!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "And you know damned well that you told me to report it personally to you to keep the risk of spying and leaks to a minimum. And I tried to do so. What was I supposed to do? Tell your secretary everything, even after you made a fuss about how she isn't cleared to know what you have me doing? If you're going to throw a tantrum like this every time I try to follow your directions, you can kiss my assistance goodbye and search for HYDRA your damned self."

Fury conceded the point. "Fine. We'll pick some kind of code phrase or something that we can use. Now tell me what happened."

Shrugging off his own irritation as much as he could manage, Tony gave in and did so. "My team and I got our hands on a map, while we were in Prague doing the last stage of our research. It was supposed to lead us to some kind of abandoned underground temple hidden out in a very remote region of the Balkans, but it turned out to be a well-laid trap. We were taken captive, and then this man was sent in to kill us." He took out the photo of James and tossed it onto Fury's desk, surprised to see the man do a beautiful double-take and pale as though he'd seen a ghost. "He chose not to, and helped us escape instead. Has no idea who he is, though. I figured, since HYDRA is your area of expertise, you might be able and willing to help him out."

Fury stared at the photo for a few long seconds before he reached up to take his cigar out of his mouth and scrub at his face with both hands. "Jesus, Stark, ya really are a trouble magnet. Worse than Cap ever was." He paused and took a deep pull on his cigar, then exhaled again, sending smoke swirling through his office and making Tony's nose twitch. "That," he pointed to the photo with the hand holding the cigar and sending a bit of ash floating down onto his desk, "is Cap's old Sergeant. The one who disappeared just before he did."

Tony snorted. "Pull the other leg. I saw the news. He was killed in action."

"That was the story we gave the papers," Fury replied, more or less evenly, but Tony could hear the way his voice shook with remembered emotion, and saw him swallow hard before he went on. "No one knew what happened ta him. He fell some forty meters into a ravine on a mission, and his body was never found. But this," he tapped at the glossy photo, leaving behind a smudge and making Tony want to snatch it up and hide it away so that nothing would ever damage it, "was taken after ya got back Stateside, wasn't it."

It wasn't strictly a question, but Tony nodded anyway. "Couple of days ago."

"Get him here. Five minutes ago. I need to talk ta him. Alone," Fury demanded, shaking off his mood and finding his mental footing again.

"Uh, yeah, I don't think so," Tony retorted, squaring his shoulders and staring the general down some more. "That's his choice. If that is who you think, he's not under your chain of command anymore, and if he says no, I'm not forcing him into it."

"For fuck's sake, Stark," Fury growled, irritated with him now, rather than just impatient. "If that really is Barnes, one of the best sources of information on his life is _me_. And if it's not, I'm probably the best qualified person alive ta spot a fake, given that Cap's dead."

"Wasn't the Captain 'killed in action' too?" Tony scoffed.

"He flew a plane into an ice shelf in the Arctic Ocean and it sank. We searched for him when it happened and didn't find a trace," Fury said, rolling his eyes. "The best ya could hope ta find is a corpse, so don't even think about going charging off ta hunt for him with Barnes. It's been five years since it happened. Now, get the hell out of here and come back here with yer foundling. Preferably by noon. I have to fly to DC after lunch."

Tony stood, shoving his chair back with a screech of chair legs against the floor. "Fine. I'll ask him. But if he says no, don't expect to see us back here anytime soon."

"Who invited you? The missions he was running were the kind of top secret not even yer cleared to know about." Fury told him.

"What makes you think I give a damn about that? If the man I rescued isn't who you think he is, he's not cleared to know that stuff either. And I have no intention of letting you in the same room as someone who hasn't got the means to defend himself," Tony replied, keeping his tone as light as he could manage in an attempt to keep Fury from seeing just how angry he was getting. "That's the deal, take it or leave it."

"Jesus, Stark, yer a royal pain in my ass. Get the hell out of my office and ask him, then. Yer just wasting time now."

Nodding, accepting that and knowing it was the best he'd get out of Fury, Tony left the office. James had insisted on accompanying him here, so it would take all of a few minutes to get to him and ask him what he thought of the whole thing. And, if he agreed to see Fury, to escort him back there.

Tony paused to let Fury's secretary know he might be back very shortly with someone Fury wanted to see, and made his way out of the building.

Holy shit, if it really was Barnes they'd rescued, that would be huge. They wouldn't be able to tell anyone, but wow.

He strolled out the front doors of Fury's HQ, and all but tripped over James, who'd taken a seat on the stairs, somehow making them look as comfortable as a chaise longue. James caught him by his wrist before he could take a header onto the pavement and pulled him back onto his feet.

"Tony?" He asked, eyeing him a bit warily. "You're upset."

Taking a steadying breath and trying to force as much of the stunned surprise and wariness away. "Fury is fairly sure he knows you, and wants to talk to you in person before noon. I didn't tell him you were here with me. I told him it's your choice whether you want to take the risk."

"Risk?" James raised an eyebrow at him. "Just who does he think I am?"

"Can't talk about it out here. It involves a lot of red tape and government secrets," Tony replied.

James visibly chewed on the thought, considering the angles.

"I just..." Tony went on after a beat. "I want you to have some way to recover who you were, or at least your memories of it. But I don't want Fury to get his hooks into you. Not for the first time, if you're not the person he thinks you are, and also not again, if you really are. Or were."

James huffed at him, a smile tugging at his lips, and got to his feet without letting go of Tony's wrist or using it to pull himself up. "Come on. Let's go talk to the General."

"He tried to bar me from the room, in the event that you agreed," Tony added, taking a perverse pleasure in the way James scowled darkly.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," he replied, and brushed off the backs of his pants with his free hand. "Lead the way."

Tony hesitated for a moment, then nodded and turned to head back into the building. James was close on his heels, a bare step behind him and to his right. Tony tried not to think about the fact that James might have done exactly the same thing as he backed up Captain America. Tried not to think about the fact that he had a strong suspicion he knew exactly whose mark was on James' hand and wrist. It was covered, but Tony knew it was there and the knowledge burned at him.

They made it back to Fury's office in short order and Tony gave the secretary a polite nod and his press smile as he knocked at the door.

"What? Who's there?" Fury growled and Tony almost felt the shudder that went through James at the sound.

Jesus. It was all true, wasn't it. There was no reason for James to respond like that if he didn't know Fury's voice. Tony bit down on the idea again and pushed the door open. "Me. And I've brought a friend, as you requested and required."

Fury stood, and if Tony hadn't been such an emotional mess already, he'd have laughed at the way the cigar fell right out of Fury's mouth to land on his paperwork and singe it badly. Swearing, Fury picked it back up and picked up his water glass so he could use it to keep the paperwork from actually catching fire. "Damn it, Stark, if I've told ya once, I've told ya a thousand times--"

James smirked, the expression dark and edged, and cut him off. "I'll thank you to keep a leash on that tone of yours, General," he said quietly and clearly, his accent mostly neutral and the threat clear in his tone. "I might not know who I am, but I can and will defend myself and those I consider my friends."

Fury snorted. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'd expect ta hear if ya were Barnes," he replied. "Take off that glove on yer right hand."

James raised an eyebrow at him and made no move to obey. "Why?"

"Because that's the only way either of us can confirm your identity without a doubt. Ya might look and act and talk like Bucky Barnes, but the Bondmark on yer right hand is unique." Fury told him, the words sounding far more reasonable than a statement like that should have.

"You know as well as I do that Bondmarks are a very personal, very _private_ , thing," James defended himself calmly. "Why the hell do you claim to know what's on my hand and why should I believe you?"

Tony could tell James was tense, not upset or angry, but tense. If he looked closely, he could see the way James' hand was shaking just a little, and smell the hint of sweat on his skin. He wanted to take James' hand, but that would reveal far too much about the state of their own relationship to Fury. Instead, he put a hand on James' right shoulder, and felt a little of the tension drain back out of his friend. Just a little. Only enough to be noticeable if you had enhanced senses.

"Because," Fury told him, tone suddenly a lot softer, "I saw it just after it appeared. I'll describe it to ya, if it makes ya feel better." He met James' eyes and held them, his own expression more sympathetic than Tony had ever seen it. "It looks like ya damned well picked the most sentimental thing ya could've and painted a firework on the back of yer hand that wraps around yer ring finger and goes halfway up the outside of yer arm."

Tony froze, going absolutely still. He knew that mark. He'd seen it himself the day they'd gotten James to follow them home and let Jarvis patch him up, though it had remained hidden away ever since. He knew beyond a doubt that his suspicions regarding James' soulmate were also true. That James had been fucking Bondmated to Captain America.

James -- no, Bucky goddamn Barnes -- reacted much the same way Tony had, physically. Then he took a shuddering breath that made Tony's hand on his shoulder tighten reassuringly and reached over to tug at the glove on his right hand. "Well, if you already know what it is, I guess you can see it for yourself," he conceded, a bit shakily. "Tell me what you know about me."

Fury took one look at the Bondmark, and nodded. "Jesus. I didn't dare believe my eyes when ya walked in here but that... That's impossible ta fake. Only three people knew about it, and, well, until today I thought two of them were dead."

James -- no, Tony reminded himself, Bucky -- gave Fury a sardonic look. "How long ago did I disappear?" He reminded the man behind the desk. "HYDRA held me for five years. They had me captive and whatever they did to me wiped all my memories of who I am clean away. You can bet they worked out what it was. Possibly also who it belonged to."

Tony let go of Bucky's shoulder and stepped over to the second chair in the office to seat himself. "Maybe they did and maybe they didn't. If it belongs to the person I think it does, they might have dismissed it as unimportant, given that he was killed in action shortly after you vanished," he told James, eyeing the general.

Fury shrugged. "Yer guess is probably right, Stark," he conceded, and turned to the locked filing cabinet in the corner of his office, unlocking it and pulling out a manila folder. He held onto it for a second, then set it down on his desk and slid it over to James, then his expression went almost grave as he said, "Let's get this over with. Barnes, nothing in this folder leaves this room. Anything else you want to know, ask."

Bucky eyed the folder a bit warily. "What's not in there?" He asked after staring at the blank cover for a beat.

"Yer childhood," Fury answered easily. "Anything dating back to before ya turned eighteen and Cap formed his band of crazy brothers to haul yer drafted ass back out of German hands."

Bucky's hands tightened on the arms of his chair, and Tony wished he could spare the man, already a close friend, the pain he knew would follow learning what was inside the bit of beige cardboard. He bit his lip and quietly reminded his friend. "Your choice, James. If you'd rather do this later or never, I'm fine with that. I will make sure _no one_ pressures you into it. And, for that matter, if you'd rather I called you Bucky, I can do that."

With a quiet sigh that Tony barely made out, James made his decision. Tony could feel it.

"James is fine, Tony," he answered, and Tony heard the fondness in his voice. "And I'd rather get this over with than worry or wonder."

"Alright. Open it, then," Tony told him, and mentally braced himself for what was coming.

He was fairly sure it wouldn't be pretty, and he knew James felt much the same, judging by the way he shut his eyes for a moment in an obvious attempt to center himself.

The first few pages were exactly what Tony would have expected. James' enlistment forms, signed and dated, with photos attached, followed by a copy of his Will, such as it had been, and a summary of the remaining contents. There was a long string of dates and locations on the back, which Tony was sure corresponded to the missions James had run with Cap and the Howlies.

"I--" James' fingers traced over the list, and then he tapped at one of them. "This one," he said quietly. "This is the one you were referring to earlier, when you said you saw it happen."

Tony was a bit surprised by the statement. He knew what James meant, knew his friend was referring to the comment Fury had made about seeing James' Bondmark appear. But for a simple date and location to be enough to trigger him to remember? That seemed far too easy.

But then again, he wasn't about to wish more pain on James than he already had to deal with.

Fury huffed at James and Tony refocused his attention. "One'a the few times I wished I could gouge out my remaining eye," he grumbled, an undertone of exasperation in his voice. "You two morons should'a known better. Kissin' in a damned barn in the middle of enemy territory where anyone could'a walked in on ya, fer Chrissakes."

Well. That answered a few questions and raised about a dozen more. Tony forced himself to bite them back. He could ask later, when they had a bit of privacy. If James was willing to answer, anyway.

"We'd just finished getting shot at and Cap almost bought it that day. That was more than enough reason to seize the moment, even if we did know better," James disagreed, making Tony's train of thought screech to a halt and prompting him to stare at James.

"So ya decided to celebrate survivin' by makin' time," Fury agreed. "Y'were damned lucky no one managed to track us there."

"I know," James admitted, and his expression twisted sharply. "Not that it mattered in the long run, now did it."

"Yer here and alive," Fury pointed out, then pointed at Tony with his cigar. "An' ya've got a stubborn asshole at yer back, just like always."

James growled a few curses under his breath, then very carefully chose not to call Fury out on the insult to Tony. Or the Captain.

"I may be a stubborn asshole," Tony agreed, keeping his tone mild, "but you're treading on thin ice, Fury."

James turned the page, breaking the moment, and stared down at the next page, half of which had been redacted. Tony eyed it and raised an eyebrow at Fury. There was healthy paranoia, and then there was General Fury. He'd have expected any other copy of this file to be redacted, but not Fury's personal one. This really took the cake.

But on the other hand, Fury had been on a lot of those missions himself, and knew what had been blacked out. So did James -- at least in theory. And anyone else trying to access this, anyone who shouldn't be able to, wouldn't get the truly sensitive information they were seeking.

"This was the one where Dumdum fell in the river," James commented after a few seconds.

"Yeah. He got pneumonia and was laid up in bed for a month after that," Fury agreed.

For the briefest moment, Tony was so jealous of the shared memories that he nearly saw red. He ... shit. He wanted that kind of closeness. Those kinds of memories. And he wanted it with James.

He shoved the thought away and crammed it into a box. There was no way that would end well for him. Not when James already had his Bondmarks and had lost his Bondmate. Hell, James had lost one of his Bondmarks into the bargain when he'd lost his arm, to add insult to injury.

When he'd managed to force the idea aside and focused his attention back on his friend, James was giving him a strange look, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he flipped slowly through the rest of the dossier, occasionally exchanging a comment or two with Fury, then closed it and dropped it onto Fury's desk with a loud slap.

The room was silent for a moment while James considered what he'd learned, slotted it into place, and then he spoke up. "So what now?"

"Now, ya take Stark and get him the hell out of my office, Barnes," Fury told him gruffly. "I don't wanna see or hear from you two yahoos for at least a week. Get yer head screwed back on straight, and then let me know if ya want yer old job back." He snorted. "If not, I'm sure Stark'd find you something to do."

That was true, but entirely beside the point. Tony stood, feeling the effects of sitting in one position for so long as James read. "You declared him killed in action yourself. He's not under your command anymore, Fury," he reminded the General, then caught James' eyes. "Let's go. It's getting late and I don't know about you, but I want something to eat."

James shook his head, but the hint of a fond smirk that tugged at his lips was clear to see. "Sure, whatever. Food sounds good. We'll keep in touch, General."

"Hmph. Ya better."

After they'd left the office, James lost a lot of his tension. After they'd hit the sidewalk outside the building and made their way across the grounds to Tony's car, a good portion more fell away.

Neither of them said a word about what they'd learned until they reached Tony's mansion, though. They were both still reeling, and they both knew it. It had been a very difficult morning, and Tony just knew that they'd have to go through a less intense version of it again later, when his team heard the news.

"Tony?" James broke his silence as they climbed the front steps and let themselves into the house. "How-- I don't know--"

With a sigh, he reached out and caught James' right hand in his left, offering comfort. "Just take the afternoon to yourself," he suggested. "Let it all settle. We can worry about next steps in the morning. But, as to what those might be? I'd say the first step is to legally re-establish your identity. Fury will vouch for who you are, and that will go a long way toward giving you credibility."

"That'd lead HYDRA right to your doorstep," James retorted. "I think not."

"Alright. We'll table that for now. But at some point, it will happen, mark my words," Tony told him.

"It would be better to create a cover identity," James told him, his fists clenching with a distinct click and creak of fine leather.

The certainty in his friend's voice made Tony wince, even as he knew James had a valid point. Tony sighed. "If we do that, it'll be a temporary measure, until we can get HYDRA off our backs."

James shook his head, but pointedly changed the subject. "What's next on your agenda?"

"Thought we were going to eat lunch?" Tony asked him wryly and let go of James' hand, turning to lead the way into the kitchen. "Changed your mind?"

"Not hardly, Tony," James shot back. "Not hardly. But you were all set to just stand there arguing with me for hours."

"You're a fine one to talk," Tony muttered, but he knew James would hear the laughter he was biting back. "Anyway. After we eat, I intend to spend some time in my study."

James turned to face him fully. "Planning a new expedition?" He asked, surprise coloring his voice and his eyes going a bit wider. "It's barely been a month and a half since you got back Stateside."

"These things usually take a good six months to research and plan, James," Tony retorted. "By the time we're ready to go anywhere, it'll probably be Thanksgiving. Or maybe January."

Sufficiently distracted, James groaned. "Damn it, I hate hiking in the snow," he muttered.

"Making some assumptions there, are you?" Tony grinned at his friend. "Who said I was taking you with me?"

"I did." James shot him down immediately, glaring at him as they passed over the threshold into the kitchen. "You ain't leavin' me here while you go gallivantin' off who knows where."

The moment held and stretched like taffy until Jarvis cleared his throat, startling them both. "I think you two had better fill me in," he said, breaking into their conversation without hesitation.

"Jarvis, old bird," Tony replied, "there is a lot of ground to cover, if you expect us to be thorough."

"Just give me the précis, then," Jarvis demanded.

James shook his head and grabbed for a Coke before he settled himself at the kitchen table opposite the grizzled medic and put his head in his hands.

Tony put a hand between James' shoulderblades, then fetched himself his own drink and set about putting together a pair of sandwiches. "Well, Jarvis, it's like this," he said as he worked, and laid out what they'd learned from Fury as concisely as he could, prompting James to fill in a few blanks as he went, just to keep him present and talking.

Halfway through the story, he set a plate in front of James, then started making something for himself.

When Tony had finished speaking, Jarvis pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Tony, no."

"What?" James looked up.

Jarvis ignored the reaction. "Tony, don't even think it."

"Think what?" Tony asked and bit into his sandwich. The lush crunch of lettuce and sweet tomato juice made his eyes fall half shut. The dark taste of the roast beef underneath underscored everything and made the sweet tastes seem that much brighter.

James looked back and forth between them, and drew his own conclusions. Swearing colorfully at Tony, he put down his half-eaten sandwich and pointed at Tony with his left hand. "Tony, _no_."

Jarvis looked pleased. "Good, backup," he said, then went on. "You are not launching an expedition to search for Rogers."

"Why not?" Tony stuck to his guns. "We have no idea what Project Rebirth was actually capable of. Or exactly what it did to him, for that matter. For all we know he's camping out with a bunch of locals, living on a diet of seal and walrus."

"Tony, going above the Arctic Circle in winter is not a great plan to start with. And if you do it in summer, you'll probably have to contend with a lot of competition," James said carefully.

"All the more reason to do it in winter, when no one else wants to try," Tony argued.

"Find us a reasonably solid lead, first," Jarvis said, his tone of voice ending the discussion. "Then we can discuss the logistics."

"Don't have to look far to find one," Tony replied. "He's sitting here at the table with us."

James looked like a deer in headlights. "What?"

Taking another bite of his sandwich, Tony chewed carefully and swallowed before he replied, letting the expectant silence drag out a little. "I'll have to do some reading to confirm this, but I'm pretty sure your bond could lead us right to him under the right conditions, James."

Jarvis scowled. "Tony, if you intend to try what I think you do, you can try it from here first. What you told me was that it only worked if both Bondmates were alive."

"Yeah? Everyone thought James, here, was dead, and look at him," Tony pointed out. "If there's a chance of getting him back, we should take it."

"Tony," James cut him off firmly. "Hold your horses. Sure, I want Steve back. That's all I can think about, some days. But I'm not doing whatever it is you're wantin' to try, if the attempt costs me you and your team."

And damned if _that_ little speech didn't set all kinds of butterflies loose in Tony's stomach that had no right to be there. He set down his own sandwich and sat back in his chair. "I have no intention of letting that happen, James," he said seriously. "Not by force, and not by my hand. The only way that would ever happen would be if it's your choice to leave. We have a platonic bond, and that means something to me. Hell, some days it means everything."

"And besides," Jarvis pointed out, "we have a lot of preparations to make before we even attempt to figure out of Rogers is still alive. This is not a decision that any of us is making right now."

"No," James agreed, "now, we are eating our lunches."

Tony bit down on his urge to continue planning. Jarvis had a point. "Fine," he grumbled. "But don't think I'm letting this go. Fury declared you both killed in action, James, and we all know how accurate that was in your case. If he's wrong about your Bondmate, too, I'd sure as hell want to know, in your shoes."

That statement made James take a ragged breath. "Eat your sandwich, Tony."


	3. [July 22, 1949] - [September 25, 1949]

[July 22, 1949]

It had been less than two weeks since they'd talked to Fury, and Tony was already almost convinced that he'd worked out how to get to the Captain, if he was still alive. James would be the key to the whole plan, though, so unless he was willing to try to track down his missing Bondmate, willing to believe the Captain lived and risk what he considered 'losing Tony', this was going nowhere.

For his part, Tony had no intention of leaving -- or driving James away. He'd meant what he'd said; the only way James was leaving the mansion and the team was of his own volition.

He set those thoughts aside for the moment, and grabbed up the sheaf of notes he'd been writing as he paged slowly and thoroughly through his journals and reference books. It was time he tracked down James and gave the man a crash course in Bond Echolocation.

Stepping out of his study, Tony bounced off a broad chest with a surprised grunt.

James snickered at him and steadied him. "Where're ya off to in such a rush?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Looking for you. Come on," Tony told him, and ignored his friend's amusement.

"Where're we goin', then?" James persisted, sounding fond and tolerant.

"To the patio, where we have a bit of quiet and privacy." Tony led him down the stairs, then through the mansion's sitting room and dining room, and out onto the patio at the back of the house. He had a walled garden there with almost as much square footage as was contained in the house, and it was great for things like this. The sounds of the New York traffic were nicely muffled by the walls and the greenery, and they were a bit less likely to be walked in on by Jarvis, Pepper, or Rhodey.

Tony carefully didn't think about the fact that he'd be alone together with James -- to whom he was still unfairly attracted and knew he likely always would be -- in a romantic setting that basically was only missing the candle lit dinner.

James surveyed the patio once they were outside.

Tony was sure James had explored it before but let him look his fill, taking stock of entrances, exits, and other tactically relevant features. That was a habit of his friend's that Tony had gotten used to and stopped worrying about. James had spent too many years of his life dependent on his observational skills for his survival to drop that sort of reflexive evaluation in less than two months. Hell, he might never lose it, but that was ultimately not the worst possible outcome.

"Okay," James prompted him after a few seconds had passed, "so we're on the patio. _Why_ are we on the patio?"

Tony tugged him over to the comfortably upholstered chairs under the awning. "We're out here so that I can show you how to find your Guide, if he's still alive, rather than just chasing after impossibilities."

"Impossibilities, huh?" James smiled crookedly. "Like me?"

Tony grinned back. "If there's anything that my expeditions have taught me, it's that impossibilities can and sometimes do turn out to be reality. The number of artifacts I've gone after and retrieved that shouldn't exist outside of a fairytale? I haven't kept count, but it might well be in the hundreds by now. Creatures like the dragon Fin Fang Foom? Also real. Magic? Very potent and powerful, even though it sounds like a blatantly crazy violation of the laws of physics, chemistry and biology. So your Bondmate turning up alive? That would be far from the craziest thing I've ever seen, even if the odds that I'm right are pretty low."

James nodded slowly. "Steve used to collect and read _Marvels_. Just how much of that stuff was true?"

"Not as much as my writers would have you believe, and more than anyone suspects," Tony answered, a trifle evasively. "The amount of embellishment in the writing varied a lot from writer to writer, and from issue to issue."

"Figures," James said and finally took a seat on one of the chairs, apparently willing to at least hear him out. "Alright, talk."

Tony shrugged, and settled himself comfortably in the chair opposite James, setting his sheaf of notes on the small round wrought iron table between them. "Right, well. Here's the thing. I did a bit of reading, since I remembered hearing about something during one of my expeditions that might help. Turns out there's this technique that a Sentinel or Guide can use to locate their Bondmate. It translates as something called 'Bond Echolocation', though that's a bit of a misnomer."

James snorted, apparently still quite skeptical. "So, what? There's some kind of sound that travels over the Bond?"

"Not a sound, but more like a ping," Tony replied easily. "It's a bit like a physical handshake, based on what I learned from the people I interviewed. A feeling like reaching out and touching the other half of the Bond. But it's not just the sensation of touch that's important, here. The ping also lets you work out where your Bondmate is, in relation to where you are. A bit like a game of Blind Man's Bluff."

"And just how does that work?" James asked him, clearly still humouring him.

"I'm not bonded, so I've never done this, or tried it," Tony said and gave James a crooked smirk. "But what my interviewees told me was that the person who wants to locate their Bondmate needs to find a safe place to be, without distractions, and away from possible threats that would break their concentration. So this isn't something I'd recommend trying on the run or during a firefight, or generally under stress of any kind. Once you've got that, what follows is something like a meditation. You'd need to shove everything else but the Bond out of your awareness. Or, as much as possible, at least. The closer you can get to that perfect focus, the clearer the 'direction' will be that you get from your handshake."

Considering that for a moment, James nodded. "That sounds plausible enough, I guess. We have a platonic bond and I can get a decent read on where you are from it at any given moment."

"Bingo," Tony grinned at him brightly, pleased. "You're a quick study. It's exactly the same principle at work."

James smiled back, a bit more tentatively. "Never was all that slow to pick things up," he said, then his expression sobered. "But if Steve's dead, I won't feel anything, will I?"

It was like watching a cloud blot out the sun on a cool spring morning. Tony felt a small shiver run up his spine. "No," he confirmed, letting his own smile fade. "And that's why it's important to try to get the signal as clear as possible, in this case. Even if he is still alive, against all the odds, his last known position was a long ways from here, up near the Arctic Circle, and he could be anywhere, by now."

James was silent for a few long seconds, so Tony went on. "If you don't want to do it, no one will force you to. But I wanted you to have the option, the know-how to do it, if you chose to."

That got him a nod from James. "Thanks, Tony," he said quietly, then stood and made his way back into the mansion.

Tony didn't follow him, sitting back in his chair, staring meditatively up at the partly cloudy skies and just thinking about the whole tragic situation until Jarvis called him indoors for lunch.

* * *

[August 3, 1949]

"Tony?" James asked for his attention, voice a little more tentative than usual.

"What is it?" Tony responded without hesitation, setting his book aside and marking his place. "Something wrong?"

"Not... wrong. Just... You said that if Steve was alive, I should be able to feel him," James said, clearly unsure of himself. "What... How can you tell if you did it right?"

Tony stared at him for a moment, caught off guard and totally flat-footed. Shaking his head and forcing himself to gather his wits, he replied, "I thought you didn't want to do it, but, setting that discussion aside for now, what makes you think you did it wrong?"

"I can't tell if there's anythin' actually there, or if I'm imaginin' it 'cause I want it to be true," James said with a heavy sigh and looked around Tony's study with an air that said he was searching for some kind of distraction. "That... what'd'ya call it... handshake? Whatever it is, it's more like touchin' spiderwebs than a handshake."

Tony reached over to the far end of his desk and grabbed one of his puzzle toys, dropping it into James hands. The move got him a startled look, but James didn't protest, turning it over in his hands and investigating it, trying to work out what it was and what to do with it, while Tony mulled over the statement. He really wasn't sure what to think about this turn of events. It wasn't as though their situation needed to get any more bizarre, but it clearly had. He'd been operating under the assumption that James would get a clean 'yes or no' kind of response if he decided to try seeking out his Bondmate, not this strange in-between result -- whatever it meant. James had obviously picked up on that assumption, too, and seemed to have taken it to heart to the point where this unexpected result was making him unsure of himself, rather than making him decide Tony'd potentially made a mistake.

That was kind of sweet, in a way. Kind of flattering. But it was most certainly not the kind of attitude Tony wanted to encourage. He wasn't infallible, and he didn't want James to treat him like he was. Once he'd thought things through that far, Tony broke the silence that had been building in the room as James started slowly pulling the puzzle apart, piece by piece. "So you're saying you tried it and thought you felt a response but aren't sure, given how weak it was," Tony summarised. "Huh. That doesn't fit either of the expected outcomes."

James' head came up and he gave Tony a slightly exasperated look. "Exactly."

He considered what James had told him, then nodded. "You try it only once, or did you get the same result a few times in a row?" He asked.

"I didn't go countin' my attempts, but it's been the same every time."

"And did it give you a direction to follow?"

James paused before he answered, clearly debating what to say, then shrugged. "A very vague one. Northeast."

This had all the earmarks of an oblique request. Tony decided he would grant it. James asked for nothing, and did everything he could to contribute to their maintenance of Tony's household and his projects. "Do you want to pursue it?"

"I don't know," James said, looking lost. "Should I?"

"That's for you to decide," Tony told him gently. "It's a hard decision to make, knowing you might very likely find your Bondmate's body at the other end, but I can't in good conscience tell you what to do, on this one. If it were me..." Tony paused and swallowed, imagining finding Pepper, or Rhodes on the other end, then cleared his throat and went on. "If it were me, I'd want to know one way or the other. To have that closure. Even if it was incredibly hard to deal with the knowledge. I'd want to give them a memorial, an honorable burial, whatever it ended up being. Something."

James' head tilted down until the point of his chin very nearly rested on his collarbone and stayed there for a few seconds before it came slowly back up again. "I need to think about this."

"That's alright, James. Take the time you need. If he's dead, he's not going anywhere. If not, and you decide in favor, we'll find a way to track him down."

His eyes fixed on the Bondmark on his right arm, James nodded.

* * *

[August 15, 1949]

James shoved him down behind a conveniently placed shipping crate, swearing almost silently in a nearly continuous hiss of sound. Tony allowed it, though he was a little offended by the apparently nonexistent confidence in his ability to fight.

"Honestly, James," he muttered, pulling his pistol out of its holster and checking it, "it's like you don't know me at all."

He was excruciatingly aware that they were being chased by a group of HYDRA goons with guns in a run-down area of the warehouse district. It was like a Hollywood cliché, and he wasn't sure he appreciated that. They'd been ambushed as they'd left a meeting with one of Tony's most reliable book dealers, a man who called himself Doctor Strange -- though Tony was allowed to call him Stephen -- and seemed to be able to work magic with the way he could source seemingly any text Tony needed, no matter how rare. They'd gotten a few blocks away and into Tony's car, before the snare had closed around them. That was when everything had started going wrong. The HYDRA goons had managed to shoot out one of Tony's tires and the rear windshield, rendering the car useless to them, and James had insisted he leave the book in the car so that they could make a run for it on foot. That had led them through two abandoned and entirely empty warehouses, and then this one, which contained a scattering of shipments waiting to be moved out.

He peeked around the edge of the wooden crate and took the opportunity to place a bullet in the meat of a HYDRA goon's calf. The man went down with a pained shout, and lay on the warehouse floor, trying to stop the bleeding.

James' arm went around Tony's waist and then he was being hauled bodily into the shelter of the next bit of cover. James was clearly working to get them a clear path to the warehouse doors, but Tony wasn't entirely convinced that plan would work out in their favour. The HYDRA goons that had chased them here were still searching the warehouse, sure, but the doors were at the end of a large open space that had no cover at all. The two of them could make a break for it, but they'd be spotted the moment they broke cover, and that could easily end up being deadly.

Taking another glance around the warehouse, Tony took stock. HYDRA had originally sent ten goons after them. They were down to five, now, between Tony's efforts and James' to thin their ranks. Those five were clustered around their previous bit of cover, now, and dangerously close to actually finding them and flushing them out of their hiding spot. That called for a change of plans. Between them, James was the better shot by far, and Tony knew just how to work a spotlight.

"Cover me," Tony muttered and shoved his pistol -- and its five bullets -- at James who caught it automatically. "I'm going to draw their attention. You shoot them."

Lunging out of cover, Tony did his best not to stumble.

"Tony--!" James made a grab for his shirt but missed by a hair and then swore at him quietly, his voice a bare hiss. "Fuckin' dumbass suicidal idiot!"

Starting to run for it, Tony made no efforts to be quiet. He was trying to draw attention now. His footsteps sounded like gunshots in his own ears, loud slaps against the concrete floor in the comparative silence of the warehouse.

A shout went up from the goons and they started to give chase, apparently forgetting that James was still unaccounted for.

That was their last mistake.

Five shots rang out, one by one. Measured and almost rhythmic in cadence. One by one, the goons dropped.

Once the gun's magazine was empty, James stepped out into the open area of the floor, his expression bordering on murderous.

Tony grinned at him. "Good shooting, Tex."

"If I didn't like you as much as I do, I'd shoot you my damn self," James growled back at him, then stalked out of the warehouse and into the light of the hot summer afternoon.

Laughing, Tony followed his grumpy friend. They'd survived, and without a scratch, despite the number of men sent after them. That certainly qualified as breaking even, and perhaps even coming out ahead.

When they got back to the car, Dr. Strange was standing beside it, seemingly waiting for them.

"There you are," Stephen said with a satisfied expression. "I was beginning to wonder whether I should have called for the police, after all."

Tony gave him a sardonic smile. "Stephen, those men were no common thugs. The police wouldn't have been of much help, I'm afraid."

Stephen raised an eyebrow at him. "Come back inside the Sanctum Sanctorum, and tell me all about it," he demanded, and turned decisively back toward his apartments. "Bring that tome you requested along with you; it's quite valuable, you know."

James eyed his back, warily. "You trust this guy, Tony?"

Tony chewed on his lip for a moment, then nodded. "Within reason, yeah," he answered, and heard Stephen make an amused sound. "More than I'd trust Fury, anyway."

The walk back wasn't a long one, so they were settled in Stephen's sitting room under ten minutes later with mugs of tea in their hands and an almost meditative silence wreathing them.

Stephen waited until they had taken sips of their tea -- Tony with enjoyment and James a bit suspiciously, as though he half expected a slow-acting poison -- before he started asking questions. "Were you expecting trouble today?" He started.

"Not today specifically," Tony answered holding his tea up to his face and inhaling the delicate fragrance before he continued. "We knew that someone would come after us, probably soon, and almost certainly them. But the timing was a surprise."

Stephen nodded, as though he'd expected that. "And you are aware of their nature?"

"Nature?" James repeated the word, as though tasting a wine, seeming to roll it around in his mouth before he spoke it.

"Those men were HYDRA," Stephen told them, and Tony saw James' eyes narrow.

"How do you know that?" James demanded of Tony's antiquities dealer, as though ready to tackle the man to the floor and restrain him.

Stephen didn't allow the sudden harshness of James' tone to faze him. "I know of and about many things, including their ilk. HYDRA has been a blight on this world for longer than should have been allowed."

Tony nodded. "There we agree, Stephen. Do you know what they were after? Or can you perhaps find out?"

Stephen scoffed. "What they are after should be obvious, even to you, Stark. They want to get revenge on you and recapture your menacing friend there. Tell me, are you aware that your friend bears certain physical enhancements that are likely of magical origin?"

James' expression darkened further. "What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"Do you mean to tell me that you are unaware of the fact that you can see better, farther, than you could before? That you are not stronger? That you do not have more endurance?" Strange raised an eloquent eyebrow at James, who subsided a little.

Tony reached over to put a hand on James' good shoulder, hoping to calm him down a bit further. "I was not, Stephen," he replied quietly, "but if that's true, I have to ask how you know about that."

"I am the Sorcerer Supreme," Stephen said simply, and made a complex gesture that had a ball of pink light appearing over his palm. "Protector of this Earth and steward of all magical artifacts on it."

Curious, Tony reached out for it, passing his hand over, under, and through the ball of light, and feeling nothing more than a slight tingle of energy on his skin that reminded him of bright summer sunlight. "Alright, I'm listening."

"Tony you can't be serious," James hissed at him.

He turned to his friend and held James' eyes. "James, I'm deadly serious right now. I have seen and experienced far too many mystical and otherwise inexplicable things not to believe that magic exists. If magic exists, James, logically there must exist people who can control or manipulate it. Stephen has claimed to be one of them, and not hesitated to offer ... well I was going to say tangible proof, but that ball of light's not tangible. I've known him for several years, and while we've never worked closely together, he hasn't tried to stab me in the back once, unlike the vast majority of my other associates, including your General Fury. Now, if he has some insight into your situation or this mess with HYDRA, I'm going to at least hear him out. I won't force you to do the same, but I learned long ago not to turn my nose up at information offered freely, no matter how crazy it might sound at the time. That's the kind of thing that you can always disregard later, but might rue not having."

Stephen gave him an approving look.

James scowled at them both, but sat back on the settee. "I ain't leavin' you alone in the room after that," he declared, his mouth settling into a stubborn line and his jaw setting, then proceeded to cross his arms and settle in with the intention of keeping his silence.

Tony shook his head and squeezed James' shoulder before he let go and turned back to Stephen, who had been watching them with a sort of fond tolerance.

"The two of you are close," Stephen commented, "and your friend is quite protective of you."

Nodding, Tony tried to prompt Stephen to continue. "Sure. Now what's this you were saying about HYDRA?"

"They used some foul magic to twist who he was," Stephen went on, "but it is unfinished... unraveling more with each day he is free of their hold."

That was very much not what Tony had expected him to say. Stephen had sounded like he'd been building up to some kind of big revelation about HYDRA and their attempts to capture Tony, or HYDRA's ongoing search for magical artifacts and rivalry with Tony's team. Neither of those was common knowledge. He and his writers had always made very sure to keep that aspect out of _Marvels_ , even though its inclusion might have let them sell more copies. "What do you mean?" He asked, suddenly wondering what kinds of consequences James faced, if Stephen was correct -- and there was no reason to believe he wasn't, at present.

"I mean," Stephen told him sounding like he wanted to roll his eyes, "that HYDRA tried to erase who he was, failed, and then didn't complete the rituals needed to make their dirty magic stick."

Ominous. "And what does that mean for James?"

"If nothing further happens to reinforce their magic, he will gradually regain his memories and sense of self. The platonic bond I can sense tying you together is likely accelerating the process."

Tony watched Stephen for a few seconds. "There's more."

Stephen offered him a crooked half-smile. "I can remove the lingering traces, with his permission, if that is something he wishes. It might well be disorienting for him to regain all his memories and whatever fragments of his personality that HYDRA attempted to suppress, however, and I am well aware that he does not seem inclined to trust in my abilities the way you do."

That statement had made James bristle a bit more, for all that it was nothing but true.

After Tony'd talked him down, again, Stephen had launched into a fairly lengthy and detailed discussion of precisely what would be involved in removing the lingering magic on James.

Tony himself had listened, though he hadn't understood any of the magical mumbojumbo. The main thing, which Stephen had repeatedly stressed, was that James would be in no kind of physical danger. That he was far more likely to end up with the headache to end all headaches and need a lot of time to come to terms with what he suddenly remembered once the magic had been removed.

Even with Tony's confidence in Stephen, it had taken a while before James had finally given them the go-ahead.

Stephen hadn't hesitated, seeing as he was apparently somewhat queasy just being around magic like that and had very much wanted it gone, and James had walked out of the Sanctum Sanctorum a couple of hours later, with all his memories intact once more. Seeing and feeling the difference had been disorienting for Tony, too; nothing had changed, physically, but James held himself differently, and felt more centered... and seemed to be planning something that involved Tony, not that he could be persuaded to say a word about it.

* * *

[August 17, 1949]

"What were they after?" Fury demanded, puffing at his cigar as he gave Tony and James the stink-eye.

At least they hadn't had to wait six weeks for a meeting this time. Two days was almost bearable in comparison.

"They didn't tell us," Tony answered, leaning back in his chair. "But my money's on James. He stole himself and ran away from them to follow me and my team back to the States, and you can bet HYDRA wasn't pleased about that."

James' expression was stony and he sat there, silent. Tony couldn't easily tell if he was angry -- or much of anything else. Either way, he didn't seem to feel like telling Fury about his enhancements, even now that he'd accepted that Stephen had been right about them.

Fury scoffed at him, and pointed at him with his cigar. "That's a no-brainer, Stark. But what we need to know is their goal. Gettin' Barnes back out of their hands was a good move on your part, even if all you did was offer him the opportunity on a silver platter. But what in the Sam Hill were they doin' or plannin' that he was so important? What plan did you disrupt that they're willin' to spend that much money and manpower to get him back?"

James shrugged and broke his silence at last, licking at his lip a trifle nervously. "Whatever it was, they never told me details, but they kept tellin' me I'd shape history. Prob'ly wanted to use me to give certain governments a shove in what they thought was the right direction."

Nodding thoughtfully, Fury sat back in his own chair and put his cigar back between his teeth. "That'd fit, but they could get their hands on any number of sharp-shooters for hire. Why specifically you?"

"Any number of reasons," Tony answered rolling his eyes. Fury was supposed to be a spy, so why wasn't he thinking about the political angle, here? "Because of his ties to Captain America -- HYDRA loves grandstanding, symbolism, and that kind of dramatic irony -- because of his skills with a rifle, because of his nationality -- let the world blame the Americans rather than the actual culprit -- because they'd get off on corrupting a good man like that... take your pick."

"Sure, but my point stands, Stark," Fury disagreed. "Any shooter for hire could serve that purpose. There has ta be more to this, somethin' we don't know about yet."

"Beats me." James said, and crossed his arms.

Fury stared him down for a few seconds, then nodded. "Git yer asses out of my office, then, and keep me informed."

* * *

[September 10, 1949]

Pepper caught his eyes over the table, and gestured at the newest member of their team with her fork as she asked Tony, "Did you ever get James his new identity papers?"

Tony shook his head. "Not yet. He said he didn't want to lead HYDRA right to our doorstep. Personally, I see that as a non-issue, given that they already know he's been hanging around me, and my address is pretty much common knowledge, but I'm not about to try to force him to do anything."

Jarvis snorted. "That's true. Your celebrity is not exactly going to let you keep a low profile, no matter what you try to do about it, and HYDRA was one of our enemies, anyway."

James swallowed hard, staring down at his mostly empty plate and pushing around the last bite or two of lasagna on it. "Maybe so, but I won't bring them down on your heads by doin' the equivalent of puttin' up a marquée sign in flashin' lights. That's somethin' I categorically refuse to do."

"You'll need something, if you plan on joining us for expeditions," Jarvis pointed out, carefully keeping his tone neutral. "If you won't take a passport in your own name, you'll have to let us get you a false one or stay here."

Pepper nodded. "Part of the problem with being well known is that we get checked by the border agents every time we leave the US. Getting someone back in is a little easier, because we can call on Fury for assistance in unusual circumstances, such as your repatriation. But we won't be able to smuggle you out of the country as easily. Even with Fury's help. Not now that the War's over. A few years ago, we might have managed it."

With a groan James gave in. "Fine, I'll ask Fury about it. He's got the connections to make somethin' like that happen."

"You do that," Jarvis said firmly, his tone making it almost a demand. "I don't want to have to haul you out of a scrape like that."

* * *

[September 25, 1949]

James stared down at his new passport -- made out to one James Brown of Boston, Massachusetts -- and frowned. "Why'd he have to pick _Boston_ , of all places," he muttered. "That's almost as bad as Paramus."

Tony and Jarvis overheard him, seated at the table in the kitchen as they were, and exchanged amused glances.

"Doesn't matter," Jarvis replied, "it's good enough that you can come with us."

"Come sit down," Tony suggested and tapped at the stacked maps lying spread across the table in front of him and Jarvis, "Now that you have your memories back and a firmer grip on where your Bondmate might be, we need to plan, if we're going to actually mount a search. I've pulled the most likely regions, and we're waiting to hear back from Fury about the Captain's last known position and any information about the route he was taking."

James took a hitching breath, then took a seat opposite them. "Alright. Let's try this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The maps Tony's using come from a collection that was actually put together by the U.S. Defense Mapping Agency Aerospace Center a couple of decades after this fic takes place. I couldn't find anything from the correct period online, though I'm sure they existed, so I had to make do. The maps in question are labeled on [this index](http://legacy.lib.utexas.edu/maps/onc/arctic-index.html), and include those indexed D-16, C-13, C-1, C-2, D-2, and D-1. They do more or less cover the entire Baltic and Norwegian seas, but that's because at this point they don't have any kind of accurate coordinates from Fury. Once they do, they'll put away all but C-1, and go start their search.


	4. [October 2, 1949, mid-afternoon]

Tony looked around the helm of the airship at his assembled crew.

Rhodey, Pepper, James and Jarvis were gathered there with him, with expressions on their faces ranging from the keenest anticipation to what looked like a mix of terror and longing but couldn't quite be called either.

They were hovering over a large-ish ice floe in the north Atlantic and Rhodey was piloting the airship, fighting to keep her steady in the fitful crosswinds.

"Everyone ready for this?" He asked, meeting everyone's eyes in turn.

Rhodey huffed at him. "You know exactly that I'll be stuck keeping the airship in one piece. You four get to go risk your lives on that hunk of sea ice."

"Just keep the boarding ladder in our reach," Jarvis replied. "We'll deal with the rest."

"And if you actually beat all the odds and find something?" Pepper put in, "Then what?"

"Then we'll bring what- or _whom_ ever we find aboard as long as it's feasible within the time and fuel constraints we have," Tony said simply. "We already know it's the longest of long shots, given that James can only barely sense him, and we have no idea if this is even the right place."

"I'm as sure as I can be," James said with a shrug, sounding apprehensive. "I've been reaching out every so often like you wanted. I'm just..."

Pepper's eyes went soft and she reached out to put her hands over his right. "You very understandably don't want to be the one to recover your Bondmate's dead body. We know. It's alright, James."

He nodded, the motion jerky. "I know," James said, and swallowed hard. "But I keep asking myself, _'what if Tony's right?'_ "

Tony reached over to snag James' metal left wrist and pull him into a brief but tight hug. "If I'm right, you'll have him back, and neither of you will be under any obligation to do a damned thing for Fury."

"So let's get this show on the road," Jarvis prompted. "It won't be easy, and we don't have much daylight to waste."

"Right," James pulled away and squared his shoulders. "Well, I sure as hell ain't goin' out there without a parka."

Pepper chuckled at him. "Go put it on, then. We'll do the same and meet you in the lower corridor."

Jarvis nodded. "Get moving, Stark. It looks like we're really doing this."

Tony raised and eyebrow at him before he turned to leave the bridge. "You think I'd let you turn us around and head for home without at least making an attempt?"

James followed close on his heels as they made the short walk to their respective cabins. "Not after all the work we put in."

That was the moment that they split up to go into their rooms and put on their gear, so Tony didn't get a chance to reply but he was alright with that. He wasn't all that sure what he would have said anyway.

Pulling on his parka and the fur-lined boots he'd bought just for this trip, then stuffing his scarf and gloves into his pockets, Tony swung his arms to settle the jacket and then picked up his pack. They weren't carrying as much as they would have needed for a longer arctic exploration expedition -- they could forego the food stocks and sledges, and the stiff boots and skis in favor of crampons, radios, pick-axes, and logbooks -- so there was a lot less weight on their backs to throw off their balance on the ice floe, and it left them the option to carry along the mine detector that Tony had insisted on. It had been used under similar conditions before, making it proven technology, and an effective tool in their attempt to find either the downed plane, or Rogers and his shield. It was only usable to a depth of eight to ten feet, but given the size of the plane Rogers had crashed, they were fairly certain that would be enough.

But, even so, James would be taking the lead on this trip, seeing as he was the one with the soulbond to the man they sought.

Whether James had actually managed to find and track Rogers' consciousness was an open question, given how much time had passed since Rogers had disappeared and how faint the contact was. It was possible that James had imagined it -- wishful thinking being what it was -- or that he had touched something else entirely.

If the latter turned out to be the case, pursuing this lead might be interesting after all. If it was the former, well, they were prepared for the event that they might fail. Or at least Tony was. He wasn't sure how James would react, if that was the case.

And it might be even worse if they _did_ find Rogers, only to carry home a corpse.

The emotional aftermath of that, the fallout, might turn out to be the most difficult storm Tony had ever weathered.

He shoved the thought away. He would need to focus the moment he set foot on the ice if he wanted to get through this without making a potentially deadly mistake.

In the end, it took them about five minutes to assemble on the lower deck. The four of them would be climbing down the airship's retractable rope ladder before attaching the crampons to their boots and doing their best impression of prospectors once they had their boots on the metaphorical ground.

"Shall we?" Pepper prompted them.

James nodded. "Let's."

Soon after, they were taking their first slightly unsteady steps away from the ladder, and Tony was trying his best not to let his tension get the better of him. He caught James' eyes, bright above the dark grey scarf he'd wrapped around his lower face, and got a nod.

Pepper offered James the mine detector. "You want to do the honors?"

James visibly hesitated for a few long seconds, then shook his head. "Tony should do it."

"Right, come on, then," Tony said and hefted the mine detector along with its backpack, settling the device's power supply over his own small pack of supplies. "Time's a'wasting."

In the end, it took them nearly one and a half hours to get a ping. An hour into their search, they'd given in to Rhodey's repeated prompting and improvised an anchor they could use to moor the airship to the ice floe and reduce its fuel consumption. Rhodey continued to make sure it held position overhead.

They spent the vast majority of their time slowly and carefully clambering over slippery outcroppings, just trying to find stable places to stand and run the tests that were part of their search, and when they did finally get a response from the mine detector none of them was entirely willing to believe it.

"Tony?" James asked him tentatively when he took the same reading a third time in an attempt to be sure it was a real signal and not an error or a false positive, "How are we going to get to whatever that is?"

"No idea," Tony replied cheerfully. "Might be most efficient to plant a stick of dynamite and see what we can dig out."

Pepper immediately vetoed that idea. "That's a terrible plan. If there's anyone or anything intact in that ice, the shock of the explosion could destroy or kill."

"You packed pickaxes for a reason," Jarvis added, backing her up. "Now's the time to use them."

"It'll take us days to use tools like those to dig through eight to ten feet of sea ice," Tony objected.

James snorted. "If we've actually found Steve, he's waited five years already, and won't notice another day or two," he said, sounding like he was losing what little hope of success he'd entertained.

"You have a point, I guess," Tony agreed, giving in and taking a deep breath tinged by ocean spray. "Start digging then, ladies and gents. We have a mystery to solve!"

Some three hours later, as night was falling, they finally heard a metallic clang as James swung his pick-axe. The sound made all of them jump, save James himself, who smiled almost grimly. It wasn't a happy expression.

Tony put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You want to try to get in there now or tomorrow morning? Either way, I'm sure your shoulders and back are hurting."

James shook his head. "I need to know," he said simply. "Where's my lamp?"

Jarvis held it out to him, and James grabbed for it, almost fumbling the thing before he could shine it on the metal surface properly as Tony studied what he could see.

They seemed to have stumbled onto part of a massive aircraft fuselage, far from the wings or doors. There was no stopping James when he was determined to do something, though. When he had a goal in mind, James was as implacable as a glacier though he moved far more quickly. Tony had found that out firsthand a number of times already in the span of their short acquaintance, and fully expected his friend to simply carve his way through the aluminium of the plane's outer shell rather than try to dig his way to a door.

To no one's surprise, that was also exactly what happened. James considered the aircraft's outer hull, picked out a nearly invisible seam, and jammed his pick-axe between the two aluminium panels. He leaned on the handle of the tool, levering the panel away from its attachment points, and several rivets popped in quick succession, with a sound like gunfire. The sound made Tony and Jarvis flinch back, but James was unmoved.

Repositioning the pick-axe so that he could widen the gap, James yanked a bit more sharply and suddenly there was a fist-sized hole in the metal. Seeing the tangible signs of progress, James immediately bent down to stuff his gloved hand through it, take hold of the plate, and throw all of his weight backwards, making about ten more rivets break loose. Some more of the ice surrounding the panel cracked and was impatiently brushed away.

It didn't take more than a quarter hour for James to tear a hole in the plane large enough for him to climb through, lamp in hand.

It was a tight fit, but James visibly didn't care a whit about that. Tony could hear his left arm scrape loudly against the ragged edges of the hole, and then James dropped down into the interior of the plane, the lamp in his hand seeming to shine all the brighter for the darkness surrounding him. Tony gave Jarvis a nod, then followed, carefully. A hand landed on his calf as he lowered himself through the opening in the fuselage, making him jump, and James chuckled at him.

"Steady, Tony. It's just me," he said, and guided Tony's feet into a position he deemed better before his tone went demanding. "Drop. It's only a meter."

That was asking for quite a bit of trust, but they'd amassed that in spades over the last few weeks and months together. Tony closed his eyes for a beat and took a steadying breath, then followed orders, letting go of the grip he had on the edges of the fuselage. He landed and staggered, surprised by the shock that traveled up his feet and legs despite the warning, and was steadied by James again.

It was somehow colder inside the belly of the wrecked plane than it had been outside, and Tony was at a loss for how to explain that. Might have just been his mind playing tricks on him, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling.

He spent a moment just looking at the way his breaths caused small puffs of condensation that quickly dissipated again, and tried not to shiver too obviously. His sense of smell didn't tell him much, either. All he could smell at the moment was sea spray, metal and plastic. Touch was muffled by his gloves, and taste useless to him at the moment. Hearing only told him what he already knew: James was beside him, breathing and heartbeat both slightly fast and harsh. The eerie quiet around them was tomblike, making him recall the South American temples he'd explored, surrounded by massive stone and dripping water. The cold, though. That was something else again, and he decided he didn't like it.

Of course, it didn't help that James was uneasy as hell, either. The man was all but vibrating with it.

Jarvis peered through the hole after them. "You two stay out of trouble, y'hear?" He called down to them. "We'll stay here and keep an eye on the weather."

"Copy that. Give us a holler if we need to make a quick exit," James replied easily, letting the light of the lamp play over the interior of the plane, but Tony could hear and feel the tension singing through his friend.

There were chunks of twisted metal everywhere, and the footing was guaranteed to be slippery. Surprisingly, there wasn't much ice inside the plane, though. Somehow it hadn't flooded, which was borderline miraculous. Tony had no idea how that was possible, but it didn't matter too much, now.

With a grin, Tony caught James eyes. "So, you're our compass. Which way's north?"

The joke got him a wan smile and a huff. James closed his eyes and visibly took a steadying breath in an attempt to center himself as he reached out for his missing (possibly dead, Tony reminded himself) Bondmate again.

After a few seconds, James turned and started picking his way through the wreckage strewn about the interior of the plane. Tony followed, more than a little bit unsettled to see that there were a number of large objects that very much resembled bombs mixed in with the heaps of wiring, insulation and metal. With a wince, Tony made a note to avoid jarring those as much as physically possible.

Despite the obstacles making the short trek difficult, it didn't take long for them to reach what Tony was fairly sure was the cockpit of the plane. Once they had, James made a strangled sound and his legs gave out.

Startled -- James had never reacted like that before in all the time Tony had known him, even when confronted with Fury's revelation of his identity -- Tony had to scramble to keep his friend on his feet. "James?" He asked, worried.

With a shake of his head, James cleared his throat roughly. "Well, we've found him," he replied, and Tony glanced around the cockpit.

It took him a moment, in the dimness of the space, to spot what James had. Sprawled out untidily on the cockpit floor, still in his brightly coloured and rather tattered uniform, lay the man they'd been searching for. The infamous shield was still strapped to his back, and Tony had to swallow against the way his own throat tried to close.

Despite all the care they'd taken to make sure that their expedition would succeed, Tony had not wanted to get his hopes up only to have them dashed. The consequence of that, now that they'd actually succeeded in finding the Captain, was that he had no idea how to react.

The Captain didn't look like he was badly injured -- at least not from where they were standing, propping one another up -- but he sure wasn't very lively, either. It made Tony question all of his prior assumptions. For all that he'd been the one to insist there was a chance of retrieving the Captain alive, he had known that the odds of success were slim to none. James' claim that he could sense his Bondmate had been their only halfway solid lead, and it had led them here. Tony stared down at the Captain in wonder. Was it possible that the guy had been frozen alive somehow? No, that was even more farfetched than the idea that they might find the Captain alive. Granted, no one knew what the serum he'd received was actually capable of, least of all Tony himself, but there was no way. Even for the Captain.

But, on the other hand... Throughout their search, he'd carefully refrained from voicing his doubts about James' assertions. He hadn't been sure what to think when James had first tried to locate the Captain and claimed that he could still sense his Bondmate, but here they were, and here the Captain was. Ergo, if James could sense his Bondmate -- no matter how faintly -- there was the possibility, no matter how remote, that the Captain could be revived.

And if that happened, Tony knew, it would likely mean losing James, despite all his protestations to the contrary.

James gave him a funny look. "You alright, Tony?" He asked quietly, jerking Tony out of his thoughts and back into the present.

"'M fine, don't worry about me," Tony replied, shaking off the thoughts, and got a disbelieving expression for his troubles. "We need to figure out how to get him out of here and aboard the airship. I don't think he'll fit through the hole you made with those ridiculous shoulders of his."

"You might be right," James admitted, eyeing the Captain. "We might have some trouble even if we make the hole wider. Then we'll have to haul him onto the airship too, somehow."

"Easy enough," Tony dismissed that. "We can use one of the armours to carry him up, if we need to, but I'm fairly sure we'll be able to get away with just the ladder."

James hesitated for just a moment before he accepted that and took the three steps across the cockpit to kneel next to his Bondmate. A moment later he swore, looking up to meet Tony's eyes with a devastated expression. "He's frozen solid," he said, his voice wavering under the weight of his emotions despite his attempts to keep it level.

Tony followed him over to the Captain's side, then pulled James to his feet and into a hug, taking some comfort of his own in the way James turned to return the gesture with interest. "One thing at a time," he said firmly. "We're gonna get him out of here. But you've gotta hold it together until we're back aboard the airship. If you need to, you can fall apart once we're back in the air and on our way home. But nothing's changed, you know. You've still got me. Still got my team. A place to stay."

The words made James pull back just far enough to look him dead in the eyes, and then Tony found himself being kissed to within an inch of his life without the first idea how or why that was happening. It was hot and wet and slick, and brought with it a sensation of puzzle pieces snapping into place. He pulled back with a gasp, fighting for air and marveling at the strange burning sensation traveling up his right hand and wrist. "Well, shit," he muttered.

James huffed at him, bemused. "I've suspected for a while that you were my missin' piece. Now we know for sure."

Tony gaped at him. "You-- I-- What?! Wait, I thought you already had your Bondmarks!"

"Later, Tony," James told him, suddenly calmer and more settled, and Tony marveled at being able to feel that.

It was almost unheard of for two Sentinels to wind up as Bondmates, let alone when one of them had previously had a bonded Guide and then had the Guide die. Or, well, potentially vanish into some kind of state of suspended animation, but that almost had to be impossible.

A few triads had cropped up over the course of history, but they were rare enough to be the stuff of myth and legend. Take Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere, for example -- they were not just names anyone who had ever heard of western mythology was just about sick of hearing, but also bound up in a tragic drama born of their era and its lack of understanding for triadic soulbonds. Of course, it hadn't helped that they were royalty. Nearly every other triadic bond he'd ever heard of had ended in tragedy of one sort or another, for that matter.

And bonded Sentinel pairs were seen as even worse, if you could call it that. Western society at large considered them immoral and wrong. Unnatural. The prevailing school of thought said that without a Guide to balance them out, they would inevitably end up getting triggered and causing the kinds of body counts Sentinels were uniquely capable of.

"Tony, I can feel ya worryin'," James added. "Cram those thoughts back in their box. You were right. We need ta get outta here."

"This... is going to take some getting used to, isn't it," Tony mumbled, as he leaned back in for another kiss.

James obliged him, and the pleased feeling of want and delight that accompanied the touch somehow drove the cold out of his bones, and that even though this time it stayed more or less chaste.

They pulled apart a few seconds later, both of them reluctant to stop touching and knowing they agreed on that wholly, but also very much aware that they needed to get back out of the plane and onto the airship without losing any more time.

"C'mon," James demanded, "help me carry the moron in the spangled suit back to our hole."

Without a word, Tony reached out to start prying the Captain's legs free of the metal floor. It took them a minute or two to get him free so that they could roll him onto his back, stiff as a board. The play of the lamplight over his front revealed streaks of dried blood and a number of tears in his uniform that allowed blue skin to peek through. Thankfully, his eyes were closed rather than wide open and staring.

Closing his eyes for a moment and offering up a prayer for the guy, and nevermind that Tony wasn't religious in the least, he caught James' attention again and nodded. "Lead on, Mac Duff."

Despite all his efforts to prepare himself for the task of carrying a body out of the wreckage, Tony had to fight down a shudder as they picked up the Captain and started picking their way back out of the cockpit.

It felt like the short distance had somehow multiplied, stretching out to infinity, but all too soon, they'd gotten back to the hole through which they'd entered and Jarvis was peering down at them and swearing creatively.

Pepper shouldered Jarvis out of the way long enough to peer into the plane and swore her own blue streak. "You have got to be _kidding_ me. You _actually found him_?"

"We did," Tony answered. "Now we need to get him home. Once we're a bit closer to New York, I'll give Fury a call. It'll wait that long."

Jarvis snorted. "He's waited five years to go home," he agreed. "Waiting another few hours to tell anyone about it won't make a difference."

Setting down and letting go of his half of the Captain, then making a vertical leap up, James grabbed onto the edge of the hole he'd made and started tearing at the metal again.

Jarvis and Pepper let him work without comment, then helped the pair of them gingerly manoeuvre the Captain upwards through the opening. They had to pry the shield off him and bring it out separately, and James was really rather possessive of the thing in the process. And that was an observation which had amused Tony greatly.

Getting up the ladder with the Captain in their arms was awkward, but not enough so to force them to find a different way of getting him aboard. Tony spent much of that time just marveling at the fact that he had a Bondmate and keeping his worries locked away as best he could. That bit of knowledge very nearly overshadowed the fact that they'd somehow succeeded.

"We'll lay him out in the infirmary," Jarvis decided. "Bring him."

They got him onto the table in the middle of the room with a minimum of fuss, and Jarvis produced a sheet from somewhere to cover him with, so that they wouldn't have to stare at his face. James stopped Jarvis from actually using it, though. "Give me a few minutes," he rasped. "I--" his voice broke, "I need to say my goodbyes."

The grief he could feel from his new Bondmate was muted, its edges dulled by time, but Tony knew just how powerful it was nonetheless. "Of course," he nodded. "But if you're still here in half an hour I'm hauling you out bodily. With my armour, if necessary."

Jarvis nodded, not saying a word, and followed Tony out of the infirmary with a solemn look on his face. Pepper was waiting for them, and deftly corralled them into the galley. "You boys need to eat something," she declared, her tone brisk, "and so does James."

Food was the farthest thing from his mind right then, and Tony knew it. He let Pepper shove him down onto one of the benches at the trestle table and groaned loudly, still feeling the grief flooding him and fairly sure James was sitting there, leaning over the body of his Guide, sobbing like his heart was fit to break.

"I'm not hungry," he told her, hearing the slight hoarseness of his own voice, and started stripping out of his gear. Now that they were back aboard the airship, the various layers of clothing were far too warm. He peeled the parka off and let it fall to the bench beside him. The rest of his gear followed, piece by piece.

When he removed his gloves, Pepper gasped, shocked. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked him quietly.

Jarvis picked up Tony's hand turning it this way and that. "It is," he replied, and gave Tony a dirty look. "Why in the name of all that is holy were you two making time down there? There's a damned time and place, and that is not inside a wrecked plane frozen in an ice floe!"

"Wasn't my idea," Tony protested, half-heartedly. "He took me by surprise."

Looking back on it, maybe he should have expected something like this to happen, after hearing Fury's story about how James had properly snared his first Bondmate. He seemed to be a genius in setting ambushes.

"Hmph." Pepper eyed the doorway and grumbled, "I've half a mind to haul him in here by his ear and make him talk. And, for that matter, why do you have only one Bondmark?"

Tony took back his hand and took the opportunity to look at the mark he'd been gifted. It didn't make much sense to him at first, looking like a bunch of more or less random lines that ran around his forearm, and then everything fell into place. The markings on his arm matched the metal plates of James'. Tony swallowed, hard, and tried not to think about what that metal hand would feel like against his skin. "I doubt that'd get you far, and trying to make him talk won't work," he told Pepper, keeping his tone reasonably light. "Besides, he's just helped me haul the frozen body of his former Bondmate aboard. Now is decidedly not the time for that kind of discussion."

"Fine," Pepper gave in, but Tony could see the curiosity continuing to burn in her eyes. "But you still need to eat. We all do."

Jarvis nodded and stood with a quiet groan. "Well, we've got some pasta and tinned tomato sauce," he offered. "I doubt any of us is energetic enough to cook anything more involved, right now."

"You got that right," Tony told him, forcing himself to his feet long enough to find a pot and fill it with water.

Pepper rummaged around until she came up with the tin opener, and started working the tomato sauce open, and the three of them worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. It didn't take them long to have the tomato sauce in a pan and heating, and the pasta cooking in its pot, and then the three of them sat around the trestle table once more.

"Has anyone updated Rhodey?" Tony asked after the silence had drawn out just enough to border on uncomfortable.

"Not yet," Pepper answered.

Tony considered that for a few seconds. "It's high time one of us took over the helm anyway," he decided, and got to his feet.

He was definitely starting to feel the day's exertions now, aches in his muscles and cold-induced blisters on his fingers, but Rhodey had been holding the line for far more than a single shift, meantime, and piloting the airship wasn't so physically or mentally intensive that Tony couldn't do it tired out of his mind or even in the sorry shape he was in.

"I don't think so," Jarvis said sharply, grabbing for Tony's belt and yanking him back down, "not until you've eaten."

James picked that moment to rejoin them, looking like he'd put himself through the wringer but feeling like a winter storm that had passed, leaving behind a thick blanket of snow. The grief sure as hell wasn't gone, but he'd clearly worked through a fair bit of it. "What dumbass thing's Tony doing now?"

"Ex _cuse_ me--" Tony started, only to have Jarvis clear his throat pointedly and cut him off.

"Idiot wanted to go pilot the airship without eating his damned dinner," Jarvis explained.

James raised an eyebrow at Tony, then eyed the pots on the stove before he settled on the bench next to Tony.

Tony forced down the shudder that wanted to run up his spine at the almost-contact long enough to mutter mulishly, "Not like Rhodey's had dinner, either, and he's due for a break."

Pepper rolled her eyes at him. "Of the four of us, Jarvis and I are the least worn down. We'll deal with the airship. You two need to eat and rest."

"And rest means you need to be asleep, horizontal, and preferably in your bed," Jarvis added.

"Tony?" James caught his hand, and his attention, the touch sending a warm shock of sensation through his entire body until he thought he could feel the shapes of all of James' thoughts along with the subtle living pulse under his skin. It was mesmerising, and Tony happily let it lull him for a moment. It was a lot more restful than he'd expected to be able to touch a Bondmate, and he let himself sink into it, as though into a warm bath, almost losing himself in it.

The feeling of peace didn't last long, though. There was a nudge that almost startled him enough to break the pleasant haze, and then a shove that brought him back to himself with a gasp. James looked, felt, and sounded worried, and the pallor of his skin made Tony worry. Pepper and Jarvis were staring at him in a mix of surprise and concern.

"Tony," James tried again, "are you alright?"

"I-- I have no idea what just happened," he admitted, "but I feel fine."

"It was the weirdest and scariest damned thing I've seen you do," James told him and hauled Tony into his arms as though he weighed nothing at all, wrapping himself bodily around Tony protectively and possessively before he continued speaking. "Felt like you went somewhere else, somewhere I couldn't follow, and didn't want to come back."

"You didn't respond to any of us for a good five minutes," Pepper added. "James had to use that new bond of yours to haul you back here."

Tony looked at them one by one, baffled and more than a little bit uneasy. "I'm glad he did. I think I've got some reading to do."


	5. [October 3, 1949, early morning]

Tony woke and stretched with a contented sigh, reveling in having his Bondmate beside him, even if the bed wasn't really big enough for them both to be comfortable. James had put his foot down, making sure Tony ate, and then all but carrying him off to the guest room he still occupied. Tony'd been summarily stripped down, bundled under James' blankets, and then cuddled until he'd given up and closed his eyes. That, naturally, had meant that the reading he'd wanted to do had very effectively been put off and he still had no idea what had happened to him while they'd sat in the galley, but Tony hadn't been able to find it in himself to object too strenuously when the somewhat forcefully offered alternative was being in bed with his new Bondmate, who very much needed the comfort.

He'd been convinced he'd just end up lying awake and told James as much, but his Bondmate hadn't allowed Tony to dissuade him. Rather the opposite. James had flat out asked him to stay and help keep the thoughts of the Captain at bay, and Tony had folded like wet newspaper. Being able to feel his Bondmate's emotions was a hell of a double-edged sword, as it turned out. On the one hand, when one of them (or both) was content, or -- dare he hope for such -- happy, it was bound to be transcendent. Tony knew that the way he knew he had two hands and ten fingers.

But right now, James' grief and weariness were wearing at both of them, and one of the few known (and well-documented) ways to treat that kind of thing in a Bondmated pair? Was touch. Lots of it. Bare skin in contact with bare skin. The kind of touch that screamed at ones' subconscious and beat it into believing that it wasn't alone in the most effective way possible.

And, Tony had to admit, it was a damned nice way to wake up. Everything around him smelled like James, from the pillows to the blankets and the haphazard pile of their clothing that they'd left lying on Tony's floor. Tony let himself take a deep breath, savouring the scent: leather, gunpowder, sweat, and something indefinable, topped with a thin streak of Tony's soap and aftershave. With James this close, Tony didn't even have to reach out with his senses to pick up his breathing, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was soothing. And the position James had ended up in, with his head pillowed on Tony's chest, strongly suggested he'd wanted exactly that, himself, whether consciously or not. It was a very physical kind of reassurance that Tony was uninjured and alive and right where they both wanted him to be.

When Tony peeled his eyes open, James was still dead to the world, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, and Tony couldn't stop himself from running his fingers gently through James' dark locks of hair, untangling the worst snarls and making his Bondmate snuffle contentedly. They ended up pressed even more tightly together, thanks to the way James' arms tightened around him, and Tony didn't mind that one bit.

There was, unsurprisingly, the minor issue of waking up with an erection, but Tony shoved that aside. Even if James wanted to do anything about it, Tony wasn't about to let him. Not yet. He needed to recover from the emotional shock he'd gotten less than -- Tony checked his watch -- ten hours ago, before they took that step. Not that Tony didn't want to in the worst way. James was ridiculously attractive, and, they were Bondmates. But, as Jarvis had very correctly pointed out, there was a time and a place for such intimate actions, and Tony wanted that to happen in his own bed on the ground, when it did.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a pounding on the door. "Stark!" Jarvis yelled at him, making James groan irritably and scowl, "Get the fuck out of bed and bring James with you!"

James rolled onto his back and pulled Tony with him, leaving him sprawled over James' torso. "Five more minutes," he muttered, clearly still three quarters asleep.

Tony chuckled at him, and squirmed in James' arms until he could drop a kiss on his Bondmate's forehead. "Much as I'd prefer to stay here, Jarvis will only get more insistent if we make him wait, and that sounded urgent. Come on, Sweetheart."

James peeled open one bloodshot eye and growled a few heartfelt curses under his breath, but he did let go of Tony. "I ain't a dame," he said, sounding like he couldn't decide whether he liked the idea of being called sweetheart.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed, pulling away inch by inch and getting to his feet. "If you don't like it, that's alright, but tell me, because I do."

James huffed at him. "Ask me again later, and hand me my pants."

They dressed quickly, interrupted again by Jarvis as they finished the task.

When Tony opened the door, Jarvis scowled at them. "About damned time. Come on," he said and turned to lead them back toward the infirmary without another word.

Mystified, Tony followed his old friend, with James taking up his favoured position a half step behind him and to his right. "What's this all about, old bird?" he asked, curiosity gradually overtaking his irritation. "Is something wrong?"

Jarvis didn't answer, choosing instead to all but shove them bodily through the infirmary door and towards the Captain's body. James understandably balked a bit, but Jarvis managed to keep him moving closer. "James," he said, sounding very sour, "Why in the Sam Hill didn't you tell me he was alive?"

Tony stood rooted to the spot for a second, stunned. Even with all the hints pointing to this possibility, he would never have expected it to come true.

James, judging by his pole-axed expression, wasn't doing much better.

Rolling his eyes at them, Jarvis spoke up when it was clear neither of them would. "You morons are truly something else. James, sit with the Captain and hold his hand or something. Let him know you're here. Stark, go get some food in you and bring James something to eat. And once you've had your breakfasts, you'd damned well better at least attempt to straighten this mess out."

In something of a daze, Tony nodded and followed his marching orders without looking back to see whether James chose to follow him or stick with the Captain. The lack of footsteps beside him answered that question once he hit the corridor, and he had to bite down -- hard -- on the rush of anxiety and worry and stress that went through him. James had his Guide back and there was nothing to stop him from choosing the Captain. There was no way he could compete with the history those two had, and it wasn't like Sentinel-Sentinel bonds were all that well-seen. No, it would be easier for them all in the long run if James stuck with his Captain, and Tony knew it. He'd known it from the start, but then he'd let his bad habit of hoping get the better of his common sense. Should've known better.

Entering the empty galley, Tony made his way over to the counter, where a selection of breakfast foods had been set out, clearly meant for him and James, and just stood there staring down at it blankly for a moment.

Without warning, a pair of arms went around him, and Tony yelped, ingrained reflexes making him struggle to escape.

"Shh," James hushed him, holding him tightly despite his attempts to get free. "It's just me, Tony. Shh."

It took him a long trembling minute to wrestle his feelings down to a point where they were manageable, and James rewarded him by turning the tight hold into something more like a hug. Eventually, his breath came easier and his sight cleared, and James took the opportunity to nuzzle at the sensitive point behind his ear. "That's better. Now, ya gonna tell me what freaked ya out so bad? You left and suddenly all I was gettin' was panic."

Tony most certainly did not want to have that discussion, but he knew James wasn't going to let it go. With a heavy sigh, he suggested, "Not right this moment. Let's eat and have coffee."

He could tell James wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea of letting this go, even for the fifteen minutes that eating their breakfasts required, but he got a nod.

"Alright, after breakfast," James acquiesced. "But don't go thinkin' I'm lettin' this go," he added, echoing Tony's thoughts eerily closely. "I know better than ta let'ya stew over things like that."

They ate in mostly companionable silence, their habits taking over and leaving them stuck in a strange emotional no-man's land. Or, Tony at least. James somehow managed to act as though they had yet to find out that they were Bondmates, radiating 'concerned friend' instead. Tony wasn't exactly reassured by it, but James' more or less calm demeanour helped him stay on an even keel long enough to finish his meal.

The instant they were finished, James' arm went back around his waist, though, clearly not about to let Tony even try to effect an escape. "Now. Talk," he demanded, his tone brooking no refusal. It reminded Tony very strongly of those early days, just after they'd found James and stolen him right out of HYDRA's hands.

Tony groaned, the anxiety and stress trying to rise back up to choke him, and turned to tuck his face in the curve of James' neck. "I just..." words failed him, and Tony felt a frustrated growl build in his chest. "I-- Damn it, I don't want to lose you," he managed to grit out, and James' arms went tight as steel bands around him.

Literally, in one case, Tony thought to himself a trifle disjointedly.

"Honestly, Tony," James told him, "we've been over this before."

"It was different then. You have your Guide back, now," Tony shot back and heard James growl something indistinct about being Bondmated to two idiots instead of one.

It took James another few seconds to plan -- Tony could feel him do it and wasn't that weird and wonderful -- and put whatever he wanted into action. "You," he said, emphasising the pronoun, "are comin' with me to the infirmary now and stayin' there with me 'til Steve wakes up. Bring a book or a journal or somethin'. I don't care. But yer stayin'. We're nearly Stateside again anyhow. Won't be long before we're moorin', an' at some point before that happens we'll have to decide what ta tell Fury."

Tony considered that, hesitating a little to walk back into the room that contained his Sentinel's Guide. He could cope with being in the infirmary, he supposed. And he knew James wouldn't hesitate to haul him in there over one shoulder if he felt it was necessary. "Fine," he conceded the point. "But you're telling me what the hell is going on, now. You never did explain how in the name of all that's holy you're mated to me, even though you already have both your Bondmarks. And as for what to tell Fury, I'm inclined to say nothing for now. The Captain can come stay at the mansion, if he wants, while we figure this out. I've got the space."

James' smile was like a sunrise, and Tony swallowed hard at the sight, wishing he dared give in to the urge to kiss the handsome bastard until they fell right back into bed for a few hours.

"You never cease to amaze me," James told him, something like awe in his voice, and started towing him down the hallway.

Tony could feel the warm current of admiration and welcome, and it was more of a balm on his ragged nerves than anything else could have been. He didn't understand why it was that James felt that way, but that was secondary.

"And I never _had_ both my Bondmarks. Neither did Steve," James added, making Tony stop in his tracks, stunned.

James pulled at his hand, forcing him to stumble forward and keep walking.

Tony shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "What?"

"Neither'a us ever had both Bondmarks," James held up his left arm briefly as he walked, looking at it a bit mournfully. "I lost my proof of that, but Steve didn't. And I reckon, if you match with me, there's a damned good chance you'll match with Steve, too."

Tony felt his train of thought derail at the idea of being Bondmated to _Captain America_ and _Bucky Barnes_. At the _same time_.

When they got back to the infirmary, they were treated to the sight of the Captain making seemingly random movements, tiny muscle twitches that could just as well have been shivers, and Tony watched for a moment, fascinated, as James tugged him closer and closer. One of the Captain's gloves lay on the floor -- the left one -- and Tony had no idea if that was James' work or not. But the sight of the firework Bondmark vanishing up his sleeve was enough to make Tony feel conflicted again.

James gave him a sardonic look, tightened his grip on Tony's hand pointedly, and settled himself in the lone chair in the room before insistently tugging Tony down into his lap. It wasn't a strictly socially acceptable move, but Tony decided not to care. It wasn't like he paid attention to social norms unless he was out glad-handing in suit and tie. Here with his team -- his family -- those sorts of things didn't matter.

They wound up tangled together in the chair, and James wound his metal arm around Tony's waist again, before reaching out with his other hand and taking the Captain's.

The move tore a slightly pained gasp out of James, and the Captain made quiet sound that almost qualified as a whine. Tony could feel the bone-deep _recognition_ as it reverberated back and forth between the pair of them. The sensation took a while to fade into the background, and once it did, James and the Captain both calmed.

Reaching up to brush James' hair back out of his face, Tony froze. Those were tears carving tracks down James' face. "Hey," he asked quietly, finishing the movement and then letting his hand rest against a stubbled jaw, "are you alright, James?"

"I--" James paused to clear his throat. "I'm better than I have been since I started rememberin' who I was. Am."

"Doesn't feel like it," Tony pointed out gently, finally realising that James had apparently been just as unsure how to react to having his Guide back as he had been. That James had really meant it when he'd said he was worried about losing him. That he very possibly had even been worrying about losing him and his Guide into the bargain somehow. The thought made him want to kick himself. "You've been walking a tightrope, haven't you."

James shrugged and said nothing.

The Captain stirred, mumbling something indistinct and grabbing their attention for a moment, before stilling again.

"What do we do now, James?" Tony asked him. "I can see you want to keep us both around, and I guess I can learn to share since I don't want to see you walk back out of my life, but what about _him_?"

"He-- he always usedta talk about what he wanted ta do if and when we finally found our third," James said, and Tony wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he buried the feeling as best he could.

"What'd he have to say about it?" He asked James after a beat.

"Nothin' concrete. Just... daydreams," James answered. "Guess we'll have to see what he thinks about you before we go makin' any decisions."

"You saying I should wait for him to wake up and then kiss him?" Tony joked, and was caught off guard by the way James reacted to the idea.

His Bondmate's eyes went wide and dark, and Tony could feel the sharp jolt of lust that went through James. "I didn't know I wanted that until you said it," James informed him after a few seconds, and squirmed until he found a more comfortable position for them both.

The movement made the Captain stir again, and this time Tony could see his eyelids flutter. It wouldn't be long now.

James looked down at his Guide and his expression went soft. "That's it, Steve," he said quietly. "Open those big blue eyes."

The Captain's -- Steve's -- eyes fluttered again, and this time they opened fully before falling shut again. The Captain made a quiet pained sound, and James set Tony on his feet so he could stand and dim the lights.

"Come on, Steve," he coaxed, returning to the makeshift bed and half-sitting on its edge, "wake up all the way an' we can get ya somethin' to drink."

"Mnnnbuck?" The Captain mumbled.

"That's me," James agreed. "C'mon now. Got someone for you to meet."

The Captain -- Tony was going to have to get used to calling him by his name, but for the moment it just wasn't happening -- scowled. "Bright."

"Lights're off." James told him, putting his right hand on the Captain's jaw.

Another quiet groan and then James was staring down into his Guide's eyes.

The tableau held for a second that seemed to stretch, and then James all but threw himself at his Guide with a harsh sob that caught in his throat.

Tony wasn't quite sure what to do or say, but he knew James wouldn't tolerate him running away a second time, so he stood his ground as best he could and tried to weather the tidal wave of relief coming from his Bondmate without breaking down in sympathetic tears.

After what seemed like an hour, James finally calmed enough to sit back up and take a shuddering breath. He held out a hand, the left one, to Tony. An explicit invitation.

"C'mere and say hello properly," he demanded, and Tony didn't have it in him to say no.

He stepped closer and let James pull him against his side as he offered a hand to the Captain who didn't seem to have the energy to take it yet. "James has missed you," he said.

James made a sound that fell somewhere between fond and irritated, and tangled their fingers together as he put in, "Steve, this idiot who has no idea what manners are is Tony Stark. An' all we need's confirmation to work out if he's our third."

At that, Tony saw the Captain's -- Steve's -- eyes flicker down to their joined hands. "Wha--?"

James took that as his cue to disentangle their fingers and take Tony by the wrist, guiding his hand down to take the -- to take Steve's.

The moment they touched, Tony felt that same disorienting feeling he had when he'd first taken James' hand. It felt like the touch reached down into him and set him to rights as a platonic bond snapped into place between them, feeling like a blanket spread over a sun baked meadow.

The feeling was subtly different from when he'd fallen face first into a platonic bond with James. That had been something like an optimisation. This reminded him much more of an affirmation. Of completing a circuit or that day he'd finally ended up finding his sense of purpose.

The Captain made a startled sound and found the coordination to wrap his hand around Tony's and tug.

"You--" he started, only to have his voice cut out.

Tony could guess what he'd wanted to say, though. "James, how about that glass of water?" He suggested carefully.

"Ya gonna try to run out on me again?" James asked him a trifle pointedly.

Tony snorted. "I doubt the good Captain would let me," he shot back.

That got a half-smile out of James. "Got that right," he said, and stood, clearly reluctant to have either of them out of his sight. "Don't think about going anywhere. Either of ya."

Tony aimed a very halfhearted kick in James' direction, intentionally missing by a mile, and getting an amused huff out of Steve, who proceeded to stubbornly tug at him until Tony was all but lying on top of him and then tuck his nose into the hollow at the hinge of Tony's jaw with a content sound.

Tony wasn't sure what to think about that, but James' reaction was very definitely positive.

His Bondmate made a strangled sound of want and nearly dropped the glass he was carrying.

Exhaling shakily, he crossed the room to rejoin them and prod his Guide into letting go of Tony long enough to drink the water he so very obviously needed. It took more effort than Tony would have expected, but eventually they had Steve situated in the chair they'd been curled up in five minutes ago and sipping carefully at the mix of water and ice chips.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for him to start asking questions.

"So where are we, Buck?"

James shrugged. "Somewhere over the Atlantic near the US coastline. We should be making landfall and mooring sometime in the next half hour."

"Where?"

"New York," Tony told him. "We'll be dragging you with us to my mansion on 5th, seeing as that's where James and I have been living since I found him, and you were declared killed in action so you legally don't have any assets."

James scrubbed at his face with his right hand. "Well, that's one way to break the news," he grumbled, and Steve chuckled.

"Better to know for sure," he commented quietly. "What happened while I was out?"

James' expression said he had no idea how to respond, so Tony decided to take the initiative. "Well, okay, here's the very short version of a very long story: James fell to what everyone assumed was his death, and then you did. About four and a half months ago my team and I found him by accident during an expedition and he told us he'd been taken by HYDRA. I'm fairly sure that's how he ended up with that metal arm. Once he was more or less recovered from whatever they did to him, we did some digging and went looking for you."

Steve looked dazed and more than a little bit horrified by that, and immediately reached out to take James' right hand. Tony could feel him doing something to their bond, something that soothed and relaxed James, but he had no idea what he was witnessing. Some kind of Guide voodoo. He'd read about certain things that Guides could do, but he'd never experienced any of them himself, so he had no real frame of reference for what was happening. Reading about Guide techniques was one thing. Actually experiencing them was something else entirely.

After a few seconds, Steve asked, "Is that why you call him James?"

"It's what he chose for himself. If he changes his mind, I'll adjust," Tony said simply. James nodded, backing him up.

"I ain't been your Bucky for a good five years, pal," he added quietly, his attention almost completely focused on his Guide. "Whatever HYDRA did ta me, it erased me. For a long time after Tony found me, I was gettin' back bits and pieces, an' then one'a his friends helped me get the rest of my memories back, but..."

Steve shook his head. "No, you're still in there. I can feel you. Just as warm and deadly as ever."

James have him a weak smile. "Flatterer. I forgot what a smooth talker you can be when you want."

Tony pulled James against his side, that time, intending to offer him what comfort he could, and it was like he'd grabbed onto a live wire. He let go again with a yelp as James jerked like he'd been shocked and Steve gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry? That was... I wasn't expecting that."

"What the hell was that?" Tony demanded and eyed him a bit skeptically but he did try it again. That time, he felt what resembled a low level buzz against his palm, and since he'd never felt that before, the feeling could only be coming from Steve.

"That was me sharing with Buck," Steve told him. "When you touched him I suddenly had both of you in the link and tried to compensate. Didn't work."

"Sharing," Tony repeated. "Meaning you were in his head?"

"Meaning we were in each others'," Steve corrected gently. "We used to do it all the time, and it still works like before. But I've never shared with you, so it all went a bit sideways."

Tony watched as James slowly pulled back away from Steve. "So try it with just him," James suggested. "Or kiss him. Either works."

Tony scoffed. "Don't you think that's moving a bit fast?"

"Nah," James smirked at him. "Now stop stalling."

Taking a steadying breath, Tony hesitated for a beat. He didn't know Steve from the next Joe on the street, but Steve was Captain America and James trusted him implicitly.

"Tony?" James prompted him.

Giving in, Tony held out his hand and waited.

When Steve reached out to him again, Tony decided to roll with whatever came next. He wouldn't strictly mind a kiss, if that was what Steve decided to go for. Like James, he was fairly sure that once he and Steve connected, they'd finally be complete.

And anyway, what had happened to the three of them was far outside any possible realm of experience any of them had, so Tony was sure all three of them were making things up as they went.

Their hands met, and this time all Tony could feel was Steve. His lingering confusion and stress. His strong relief at having James nearby. His curiosity about and awe over Tony. Hope for the future and sorrow over the years he and James has lost. Anger over James' treatment and guilt over not being there to protect his Sentinel.

Was this what Steve meant by sharing? It felt like what he had with James, albeit a little more intense.

Tony got an impression of laughter, and then it was like Steve was whispering to him without speaking. _'No, Tony, this is just the platonic bond we've got.'_

Oh. Wait, so what James had been getting was even more intense?

_'Yeah, but he's used to it,'_ Steve told him, then did... something. It made their bond go weirdly flat and smooth for an instant, like a glassy calm sea. There were clearly depths to it, but they were disguised and nearly invisible.

Tony found himself physically relaxing against Steve, even as James' arms went around them both, holding them steady against the pull of gravity.

Steve's smirk came across their bond clear as day, and Tony suspected he knew what was coming.

Sure enough, Steve's hand landed on his jaw and then their lips met in an explosion of sensation, thought and memory. It was like everything he'd ever been, known, or wanted was laid bare, leaving him feeling vulnerable and hesitant.

And then, like a river changing course long enough to flow backward, suddenly he _knew_ Steve in a way that was impossible to put into words.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve almost absently scooped James back up and pulled him into the sharing, turning it into something shining and balanced.

A renewed sense of awe washed over Tony, and he knew it wasn't just Steve who felt it that time.

All three of them did.

"Tony? James?" Jarvis' called as he entered the room, and the sharing abruptly faded away to nothing, replaced by a wariness that Tony knew had to be Steve's.

Jarvis stopped short and stared as they worked to untangle themselves from Steve, who suddenly seemed to have more arms than an octopus and was stubbornly trying to keep them plastered to his sides.

Pinching at the bridge of his nose, Jarvis sighed. "I guess that only makes sense," he said, letting his head fall back until he could look at the ceiling in a plea for patience. "What's the plan, then?" He asked as he brusquely peeled James and then Tony out of Steve's arms.

"We're all going home to the mansion," Tony told his old friend as Jarvis started trying to check over a very uncooperative and grumpy Captain.

James looked on with amusement written in every line of him, and then spoke up. "Steve, let the man clear ya so we can get our feet back on solid ground, will ya?"

Grumbling under his breath, Steve complied, albeit not entirely willingly. He seemed to think that he was fine, despite having spent the last five years frozen solid.

And the worst thing about it all was that Jarvis had to give him a clean bill of health, in the end.

Unrepentant and more than a little bit huffy, afterwards, Steve caught James' eyes and tugged at one of the tears in his uniform. "I think I might need a new wardrobe," he said, sounding a little bit sad about it.

James grinned at him. "Don't worry, punk, we've got it covered. Let's get you to the mansion first. We'll have to smuggle you in, seein' as you got no valid travel papers."

Steve gave him a look that spoke volumes. "I haven't had valid travel papers since 1942."

Tony decided it was time to change the subject or they'd be stuck on the airship for at least another hour. He turned to Jarvis and asked the relevant question: "Are Pepper and Rhodey ready to disembark?"

"You three are the ones that need to get yourselves moving," Jarvis replied. "And while it's a good thing that the Captain is awake and mobile, he's right about the need for a change of clothes. It'd be useless to try to cover up that uniform given that we don't have anything aboard that'll fit him. Except maybe James' things. If we're going to try to hide him, he needs to be less conspicuous."

James nodded. "C'mon, Steve, let's see if we can find ya somethin' clean to wear. My pants'll be way too short, but that won't matter none."

Steve shrugged. "Guess not."

Tony watched them go, feeling oddly isolated, until James turned to catch his eyes. "What're you just standin' around for, Tony?"

Jarvis just shook his head and shoved at Tony's shoulder. "Go get your things. You won't need much, so the rest of us'll wait in the lower corridor."

"Right," Tony agreed absently as he started walking after James, "this shouldn't take long."

Jarvis made a disbelieving sound. "If you three aren't done in ten minutes, I'm bringing Rhodes and we're hauling you out by your collars," he threatened.

Tony threw a wave over his shoulder and followed James and Steve into his room. James was already occupied sorting through the spare clothes he'd brought on the trip and piling things in Steve's arms.

For his part, Steve looked bemused and a little like he wanted to haul James back out of the closet he was leaning into so that he could kiss James senseless.

Clearing his throat, Tony got their attention. "Get a move on," he suggested, "or Jarvis will haul you bodily out of the room once he gets impatient. He wasn't kidding."

Steve considered taking the risk, then gave it up. "Be smarter to wait a few minutes so we're not interrupted right as we get to the fun part," he decided, and started stripping off that uniform of his on the spot.

Tony couldn't help the strangled noise he made or the way he stared. The sight of the new Bondmark on Steve's right arm -- Tony couldn't tell quite what it was from where he stood, but it was definitely a canine of some sort -- made him go warm all over even as he wondered exactly how he fit into their bond... how he could possibly be worthy of the pair of them.

James laughed at him outright, jerking him out of his thoughts, and sauntered over to tuck himself against Tony's back, his chin hooked over Tony's shoulder so he could whisper wonderfully filthy ideas into Tony's ear. "Ain't he lovely?" He asked rhetorically. "Just look at those broad shoulders, the way his muscles slide under his skin. And look at the way he shows off for us. He knows we're watchin' every move he makes, and he's takin' every inch of advantage of that. Doin' his best to seduce you with nothin' but a quick costume change. Ain't nothin' erotic about it, really, but he makes it look like a dance. Makes you want'a get your hands and mouth all over 'im."

Tony groaned quietly, but he knew both of them had heard him. "James, stop," he protested, pulling away, "I don't want to have to walk down who knows how many stairs with my pants chafing my dick."

Steve sputtered and laughed, and when Tony looked back at him he was already more or less presentable. The brightly coloured uniform lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, and Tony was tempted to keep it as a souvenir.

Before he could say a word or make a move to pick it up, James had it tucked under his arm and was casually dumping out the contents of his pack onto Tony's bed. The uniform went into the backpack and then he paused. "Hidin' that damned shield of yours'll be a bit tougher."

Tony held out a hand and James slowly handed the thing over. It was oddly light in his hands. As though made from balsa wood rather than metal. "I'm sure we can find a crate or something to put it in," he said, before handing it back to its owner.

"Let's go, then," James said with a last glance around the room. "Before Jarvis decides to come pry us out of here."


	6. [October 4, 1949, afternoon]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I want to thank the very vocal commenters that have been following this. It hasn't turned out to be my most popular bang fic, but y'all have made it worthwhile anyway.
> 
> Secondly. This is the chapter that gives the fic its E rating. If that's going to cause trouble for you, well. Keep your own comfort in mind and don't read in public, or whatever.
> 
> And lastly, once again, a big thank you to my wonderful artist! She's incredible and deserves all the love. Don't forget to follow the tumblr link in the beginning notes and leave a like or a comment for her, too.

Tony wasn't quite sure how, looking back on what he remembered of the past twenty minutes, but their attempt to smuggle Steve off the airstrip and into Tony's waiting car had gone off without a hitch. He'd still been in something of a daze at the time, working on processing and accepting that he had found not one but two Bondmates in the span of the past twenty-four hours as the airship and her passengers had gotten cleared by by the SHIELD-employed US Customs Agents on the airfield. His distraction had left Jarvis and Pepper fielding most of the Agents' questions but despite that the usual twenty minute inspection of the airship went by smooth as clockwork and no one seemed to notice their technically illegal passenger.

The minute the Customs Agents had left, Jarvis had chivvied them down the gangway and then down the stairs of the mooring point until they'd reached the motor pool and Tony's car. Jarvis himself had ended up in the drivers seat as usual, and the rest of them had arranged themselves as comfortably as they could manage with an extra person (who had unbelievably broad shoulders) in the vehicle.

They piled back out of the car with sounds of relief the moment it came to a halt at in the mansion's driveway and headed for the door automatically, all of them very definitely ready to take a load off. It took Tony a second to realize that Steve wasn't following along and had stopped to stare at the mansion's façade with a mix of horror and awe on his face.

James turned back and, casual as you please, looped an arm through Steve's. A firm tug got Steve moving again, and then they were finally indoors. They stripped off their shoes in the foyer -- including Steve this time -- and then Pepper, Rhodes and Jarvis peeled off to take up their usual positions in the sitting room. James kept his hold on Steve and led his -- no, their -- Guide up the stairs and towards Tony's room.

"Uhh, Bucky?" Steve asked after they'd passed a few open doors that had visibly belonged to guest bedrooms, "Where are we going, jerk?"

"You'll see in a second," James replied as he shoved open Tony's door and then steered Steve in through it.

"But--" Steve tried to protest again, "Buck, this is the _master bedroom_!"

"Uh-huh," James agreed with him easily as Tony followed them in and shut the door.

"Somewhere else you'd rather be, Rogers?" Tony asked him mildly. "James' bed wouldn't be big enough for all three of us."

Steve snorted. "Pretty sure yours isn't, either," he pointed out, stubbornly standing his ground as he looked around the room and catalogued it.

"That's something we can work on fixing tomorrow," Tony dismissed the objection. "For now it's still the best option we have. Shower?"

James eyed his Guide, giving Steve the stink eye. "Bath'd be better. He's still tired, no matter how much he'll protest it or try to convince you otherwise."

Steve grumbled something that Tony didn't catch and made James scowl darkly before bodily turning his Guide and shoving him through the doorway of the master bathroom. Tony shook his head and followed them in just in time to watch James shove Steve down to sit on the toilet seat and twist roughly at the knobs of the faucet.

As the tub started filling, the sound of the water loud in the confines of the small room, Tony leaned against the doorframe and watched the pair of them.

His Bondmates.

It was still more than a little bit surreal to think that he was Bondmates not only with James but with James' Guide as well. Captain America and Bucky Barnes. How was he supposed to even contemplate that situation without feeling inferior?

James caught his chin gently in one hand and tilted his head up. "How many times do we have to talk about this, Tony?"

A glance to the side revealed that Steve was watching them curiously. Tony shrugged. "A few more, probably," he admitted, and feeling the exasperation and want coming from James, he found the courage to make himself vulnerable. "I'm not used to being wanted without ulterior motives being involved."

Steve twitched just a little, and Tony couldn't help but think he'd wanted to wince. Clearly something about that had hit close to home, though Tony couldn't begin to imagine what it had been.

James sighed and pulled Tony in until they were plastered tightly together from their collarbones to their hips. It felt amazing and Tony took the opportunity to tuck his nose into the hollow of James' throat. Having his Bondmate this close let him glut his senses on James. The distinctive scent of his skin, the warmth pressed against him, the steady thump of heartbeat and puff of breath.

There was no sound to warn him, and then a pair of warm arms was wrapping around them both. Tony startled, reflexively struggling for a few seconds before he settled. James smirked at him, and started peeling himself away from Tony. "Steve, take the idiot and convince him we're not goin' anywhere," he demanded, then turned to dump some suds into the water and summarily ignored them both.

Steve gave him a considering look, seeming to weigh him, and Tony abruptly wondered what the Guide thought of him.

They'd done that 'sharing' thing that Steve had wanted, but in Tony's considered opinion it had been more of a knowing than a sharing, really.

Whatever Steve was getting from him, it made his expression darken incrementally, then, making a decision, Steve shook his head and suddenly they were back in that part of their bond that Tony was already associating with 'sharing', though they had only done that once before. It was a still-new sensation and totally disorienting.

 _'Tony,'_ he heard Steve say, in that shared space, _'I understand. I felt the same for years, even after I met Buck, but that's something you'll need to let go of. And it's okay if that takes time, but you can't keep doing this. It'll tear us apart.'_

Tony got flashes of what could only be Steve's memories, then. Memories of being underfed and scrawny, of being rejected by every date Bucky found for him in an attempt to help his friend and platonic bond find his mate. Of being looked down on and seen as beneath notice. He saw James' righteous fury at the constant rebuffs, saw the indignant way James dismissed every dame that tried to offer him a date instead when they met Steve. The fierce protectiveness and disbelief at the way no one else seemed to see what James did in Steve.

None of that was overly surprising to Tony. Fumbling and unsure, he offered up snippets of his own experiences with his dates. Being wanted only for his looks, sometimes only for his money. The dames that had actually treated him decently until after they'd kissed and then simply walked out of the restaurants he'd taken them to when they'd worked out that he wasn't their soulmate. Pepper, who'd turned out to be the best of the lot, and Gialetta, who'd hurt him the worst.

Steve's arms tightened around him as the story unfolded, and he let the sharing fade as he cleared his throat. "You've got a type, Buck," he said, a touch of self-deprecating humour in his voice. "Tony's little black book reads a lot like mine."

James huffed. "Half of 'em gold diggers, no doubt," he scoffed.

Steve didn't answer, and Tony didn't want to, so a silence fell between them until James seemed the tub full enough and caught Steve's eyes. "Right. Strip, punk."

The demand for him a roll of Steve's eyes. "You gonna join me, jerk?"

Tony watched them and considered his next move. "We won't all fit in there, you know," he said.

"We won't all fit in your bed, either," Steve pointed out a second time.

"Maybe so, but the bed is still a damned sight more comfortable than my claw-footed bathtub."

James shrugged. "You two get in the tub, then. I can make do with a sponge bath for now. Important thing is to get clean and warm and then stretch out on the bed."

Jarvis would agree with James, and Tony knew it. Giving in -- it wasn't like he didn't want to get up close and personal with Steve's ridiculously broad shoulders and trim waist -- Tony started working his buttons open. "I can get behind that plan," he agreed.

Steve gave him a long once over and then nodded. "Alright," he said, and started pulling at the closures of his borrowed clothing. "But tomorrow I'll also have to find something in the right size to wear," he added, making a face at the slacks he handed back to James.

James took them and gave him a sardonic look in return. "Ain't my fault ya shot up a good fourteen inches after whatever they did ta ya and still kept the same skinny waistline," he retorted.

"I really, really didn't," Steve protested, his tone more amused than offended. "I definitely didn't fit into my own clothing anymore, afterwards. Someone had to lend me their pants."

Tony snickered at them and their bickering, choosing to undo his belt instead. The delicate click of the buckle and tongue got both his Bondmates' attention immediately, and their expressions went very focused.

That, Tony smirked at them. That he could do. Attraction was old hat, even if being on the other end of not one but two such piercing stares wasn't. "See something you like?" He teased.

Steve stepped right up into his space, no hesitation to be seen. "Damned right we do," he shot back and yanked Tony's shirt out of its tuck.

"I almost want to suggest we skip the bath and have some fun," James put in, as he plastered himself against Tony's back a moment later, his hands diving under the open fly of Tony's pants to tease at the fabric of Tony's boxers and start getting him properly worked up.

Tony leaned back against him. "Or we could do both," he suggested, wondering what they would say to that. Neither of them seemed like the type of person to just jump in bed, even if the other person there was a new Bondmate.

Steve's hands skipped nimbly up the column of buttons holding Tony's shirt closed. "We don't have to do anything," he said, letting his fingers brush against skin repeatedly as he worked and sending jolts of hunger and lust through Tony with each tiny hint of skin contact.

"Or we can do everything," James chimed in, nuzzling at the point behind his ear that made Tony's knees go weak every time. "Your choice. Steve and I can entertain ourselves, if you're not comfortable with having us both, the first time around."

Tony considered that as Steve slid his shirt down over his shoulders. It had been a long while since he'd been with a man -- for a number of reasons -- and he was seriously considering asking the pair of them to just hold him until they all fell asleep. He made a snap decision. "Get clean, Rogers. We'll see if you still have the energy to burn, afterward."

James smirked, a twitch of full lips against Tony's skin. "And what about me, then?"

"You can get me clean," Tony offered as he watched Steve carefully settle himself in the warm water and grab the bar of soap that sat there, ready. Tony found he liked the idea of his Bondmates using his toiletries and smelling like him. After a beat he added, "All over, if you like."

He didn't have to be able to see James to know the man's eyes had all but lit up. "Sounds like fun. Don't go anywhere."

Even though he was prepared for it, having James pull away was something of an unpleasant shock, like landing badly on ice. Tony had to fight not to immediately turn on his heels and haul James back in against him.

Thankfully, James didn't take long hunting down the supplies he wanted, and then he was pressing up against Tony's back once more, one warm hand at Tony's hip and steering him over to sit on the side of the tub. In his other hand was a hand towel, which he casually handed to Steve, who soaped it up and handed it back without a word.

Holding the towel in his right hand, James carefully cleaned him up, leaving what felt like streaks of sensation painted over his skin in soft cotton loops and smooth soapy water.

Every so often he handed the towel back to Steve, who soaped it back up again and offered it back.

The hand towel traveled slowly over every inch of his torso, and James didn't even hesitate at the sight of the repulsor pump. Sure, he'd seen it before. Known it was there. But it had driven more than one of his would-be lovers away in disgust and aversion. Tony let his eyes slit closed, the pleasure of touch and care washing over him.

James wasn't like those past would-be lovers. Nor was Steve. He'd found his Bondmates. Sure, he still didn't really feel worthy of them, but the pair of them wanted him -- had repeatedly shown him and said as much -- so he would work on that part. Having the both of them look at him like he was amazing and worth chasing after despite his flaws was worth just about anything.

For all that they weren't really touching -- James' only point of contact with him was the metallic left hand -- Tony felt like the bond was lighting up between them. Maybe that was part of being a triad, and maybe not, but it had James watching him with something like approval in his eyes and leaning in to kiss him like he needed it more than air. The moment their lips met, it inspired a feeling like watching a grenade go off. First a sort of breathless moment of anticipation that stretched like taffy, and then a welter of want and need that washed over him like a shockwave.

Tony groaned, leaning up into the touch and wordlessly demanding more.

He got it, too. James tossed the wet hand towel unerringly into the sink without bothering to look around the room to orient himself, which was strangely attractive, then used both his hands to cup Tony's jaw and kiss him deeply.

Slowly. Thoroughly.

Tony's world narrowed down to the slick heat, and the taste of his Bondmate on his tongue, the need and desire washing over him. Unasked for proof that James really did want this. Wanted _him_.

When the kiss finally broke, just as Tony ran out of air and would have had to push James back anyway, he had to force his eyes back open.

Steve was watching them unabashedly, the heat in his eyes seeming to more than match James', and was not being the least bit subtle about the movements of his right hand beneath the surface of the bathwater. "I never thought I'd get to see Buck driving anyone but me wild," he said, tone bordering on thoughtful despite his actions, "but damned if it's not one of the hottest things I've ever laid eyes on."

James leaned in to rest his forehead against Tony's so he could keep the intimate contact they both enjoyed as he gave his answer. "Well, you'd'a had a better chance if ya hadn't gone and taken all the stupid with you after all, punk. Nearly left yourself an ice cube for eternity," he quipped, "and yet here we are."

Steve made a conflicted face. "I didn't have much choice," he muttered. "Now change the subject. That's not anything I want to think about while I watch you two make time."

Tony decided it was high time he intervened and reached down to drop James' pants and underwear to the floor. "Yeah," he put in and reached down to grab handfuls of James' ass, "tell him _exactly_ what you intend to do with me, instead. We can read him the riot act over his death defying stunt later."

Steve made a choked noise and Tony saw a hint of a bright blush rise at the base of his throat. Bingo. James smirked against his skin. "You mean you want me to tell him in explicit detail about the way I intend to cover you in love bites? The way I want to touch all of you until your skin feels like it's tingling? Put my hands everywhere but never quite where you want them?"

Steve shuddered, sending a series of small ripples through the bath water to go along with the larger waves he was making as he touched himself. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Go on," he said, a hint of a rasp in his voice.

Tony had a suspicion that whatever came out of James' mouth next would be lethal.

"How 'bout it, Tony," he asked, "would you let me tie your hands to the headboard? Let me take control and tease you until you cry? I'd love to use my mouth to drive you to the edge and keep you there. I want to taste you and hear you and glut myself on you until you're so deeply a part of me that I'll smell like you for weeks. I'd leave bites and bruises along your neck and tease that sensitive spot on your collarbone that you're trying not to draw attention to. Lick your skin until I've memorised you. Take your cock in my mouth and make you come over and over."

Tony stared at him, caught between surprise and arousal. "Yeah?" He asked. "That's something we'll have to hash out a bit more, but I'm game. Which way do you like it? You want to have me inside you as you do that? Ride me and know we'll both feel it for hours? I want to get my own hands all over you. In you, if you'll let me."

James' eyes went wide and dark, and Tony knew he'd said something right. "I like it both ways," he said, "and Steve does, too."

Tony chuckled. "Good, then we can experiment with a few... more challenging positions," he said and brought one hand up to trail over the muscles of James' back, digging his fingertips and nails in just enough to make James draw a shuddering breath and feel like a wire strung too tight. James was fighting to hold onto his control, pretty obviously aiming to move them back into the bedroom before they got to the truly fun parts of the evening.

"That's all you're gonna say about it?" James challenged him.

"Well, I thought I might save that for later. After all, we have plenty of options open to us as it is." Tony said and slid his other hand daringly between James asscheeks, teasing and doing far more than just hinting at what he wanted, and got his Bondmate to grind against him with a pleased groan. He didn't do more than toy with the sensitive skin, wanting some slick before he took things any further, but it was more than enough to get James properly riled up.

And that seemed to be the thing to make Steve's control snap. Before either of them had quite realised what Steve intended, the man was on his knees behind Tony and pressed tightly up against him. The move left Steve's hard cock sliding wetly between Tony's asscheeks and a long line of warm skin heating his back.

The touch -- and the strong wave of lust that accompanied it -- made Tony bite hard at the inside of his cheek. Being sandwiched between the pair of them, both very clearly interested and willing, was a heady experience, and he was suddenly sure he'd combust before this was over.

Strangely enough, he was totally fine with that.

James made a keening sound high in his throat and leaned in to kiss Steve over Tony's shoulder.

As they worked one another over, their hands roamed over Tony's skin, mapping him out and lingering over his scars. James' rested protectively over the repulsor pump for a second.

Then, moving as though one mind and one will directed them both, they turned their attention to making Tony come. Their touches went hungry. Focused.

Steve's left hand -- the one decorated with James' fireworks -- went around Tony's cock, and started working him in a demanding rhythm. James' hands wandered, and he slithered out of Tony's grip to go looking for sensitive spots. He found the best ones fairly quickly, the ones that made him react the most strongly, and started teasing them with lips, teeth, and tongue, getting Tony to writhe in Steve's arms as he fought to get more.

And then Steve did something to the bond that made it feel like the armour did when it had a loose component somewhere. It was like feeling a low level rattling buzz creeping along his nerves. Not strictly pleasant, but bound up with pleasure all the same, and making his skin feel like it was about to vibrate right off him.

A beat later, James, reacting to whatever Steve had done, joined in. He did something that complemented whatever Steve had done, balancing it out and turning the buzz into something decadent. He couldn't pin down the sensation. It was strangely amorphous, even as it reminded him in turn of the most sensual things he'd ever touched. Plush velvet, smooth silk, warm chocolate cake, mellow whiskey.

A hot mouth on his cock.

Tony forced his eyes open, not entirely sure when they'd fallen shut under the assault on his senses, and very nearly came, when it dawned on him just how they'd ended up. James was on his knees, and sliding Tony's cock slowly deeper into his mouth, letting it slide between his lips with a drag of skin on skin that was almost maddening, and using his tongue to find the spots that got him the best reaction.

Just as he'd promised.

Had he been standing, Tony's knees would have given out.

As it was, he all but fell back into Steve's arms and let James have control for the moment. The man had a wicked tongue and knew just how to use it to his best advantage.

With how on edge he was, had been, it wasn't long before Tony was coming, every muscle tensing as his back arched.

He came back down off the high slowly, with the strangest feeling that he was a puff of gossamer floating lightly though the air, and realised that Steve was leaning against him, breathing hard. "Wow," was all he could articulate.

James stared up at them both, with an expression that said he desperately wanted to come, himself. "Well, hot damn," he commented after the silence had drawn out a little.

Steve nodded. "You said it, Buck. C'mere. We'll get you taken care of, then clean up and get some rest."

James huffed at their Guide, then stood and scooped up the hand towel he'd tossed into the sink earlier so he could use it to clean himself and the side of the tub. "You're a little slow on the draw, there, punk."

"You mean you--" Steve stared at him for a moment, then got an almost gleeful look on his face.

"Yeah." James eyed Steve as though he could tell what the man was thinking, then folded the towel in half and started cleaning Tony up. Tony let him, enjoying the attention.

"We'll have to experiment with that sometime," Steve decided.

"Later," Tony said firmly. "All of us need to get some sleep before we do anything else."

Steve paused and Tony could feel him gathering his strength. When he stood, he wavered slightly, his weariness bone deep, and carefully stepped out of the tub.

Bucky picked up a clean towel and dried him off, lingering over the new Bondmark on Steve's right arm.

Tony leaned in close and reached out to touch the mark. "It looks like a... a wolf, perhaps?"

"I'm pretty sure it's a fox, actually," Steve replied.

James huffed. "That fits."

Tony gave him a curious look. "I know the Celts thought of them as guides and tricksters, but those qualities apply more to Steve than me."

The statement got him a sardonic look from James. "Nothing says that it has to be based on the Celtic meaning," he put in, and started steering them back out into the bedroom. "It could just as likely be a reflection of your cleverness and Steve's."

Without bothering to dress himself in his usual pyjamas, James prodded Tony onto the bed and tugged Steve down to join them.

Steve shrugged. "I'm not fussed about exactly what it means, Tony. Get some rest."

"We also have to decide what to tell Fury," Tony pointed out, stubbornly not closing his eyes, despite being bracketed by his Bondmates and very comfortable.

James grumbled something indistinct, then raised his voice. " _Tomorrow_ , Tony."

With a huff of laughter, Steve wrapped himself around them both, blanketing Tony in warmth and amusement and calm. "Don't you worry about Fury," he said, his confident tone reassuring. "I'll handle him."

It unwound a hard knot of something between Tony's shoulder blades and the sudden lack of tension had him half-successfully stifling a yawn.

James' arms went around him, too, then, and Tony felt his eyes slide shut as though someone had weighted them down. "Fine," he agreed as he gave in, "tomorrow."

It would be a new day, and likely a good one.


End file.
